


We Can Danse If We Want To

by OccamyEggshells



Category: Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, M/M, M7-97 - Freeform, Manipulation, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Post-Blind Betrayal, Pre-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 48,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccamyEggshells/pseuds/OccamyEggshells
Summary: Railroad Agent Cutler learns to make tough calls after helping escaped synth M7-97.
Relationships: Cutler/Paladin Danse (Fallout)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter One: The Commonwealth

The Switchboard, while cold and businesslike in appearance, had a feeling of warmth nestled so deep into the atmosphere that Cutler could swear that the old concrete walls were radiating the same heat as a pre-war fireplace during Christmas.

Deacon sat in the middle of the room in a metal fold-out chair. His feet were propped up on a desk, identifiably Carrington’s by the way Deacon spread his legs to knock most of the objects off, and his arms waved widely as he recounted the errand that finished earlier that afternoon. Tourists listened to Deacon’s tale and egged him on with their appropriately timed ohs and ahs. 

Dez sat at Sam’s old desk, ignoring the desk now open to her in the overlooking office. She scowled as she decoded paper notes Sam had compiled but never got around to finishing. Maven walked past her and offered her a snack cake, which Dez absentmindedly waved off.

Glory sat next to a stranger, probably a recently rescued synth, and listened as the woman counted the tactical benefits of miniguns off the tops of her fingers. Cutler would bet caps against anyone being more knowledgeable about miniguns than Glory, it was more likely that Glory was humoring her.

Lights in the main room flickered for a few seconds before shutting off. The room froze into a tense silence. Cutler, still standing in between the doors into the main room and tunnels, made eye contact in the general direction of Deacon’s sunglasses. Dez jerked her head up from her notes and put her hand to the gun Sam had given her. Glory protectively placed herself in front of the strange woman. The lights turned on a few moments later, but the tension in the room remained. The comforting warmth turned into a flaming heat and Cutler’s adrenaline started pumping. His laser rifle found its way into his hands.

“False alarm!” Carrington’s voice echoed down the hall. One of the tourists gasped in relief. They couldn’t quite make out his words, but the familiar agitation in his voice made it clear that Tinker Tom had caused some sort of temporary power outage.

Cutler took a moment to calm himself down before throwing his rifle back over his shoulder with his duffle bag. He let himself into the room and grabbed an unoccupied chair circled around Deacon.

“This guy,” Deacon laughed, pointing his finger playfully at Cutler, “takes one look at the behemoth and just books it. I had to hunker down for the both of us, but luckily I had found a missile launcher-.” The tourists snickered at Cutler, but he paid them no mind as moved his duffle bag onto his lap. Deacon, after their errand, called dibs on returning back to HQ first, so Cutler spent the better part of his afternoon practicing his accuracy on unsuspecting mirelurks.

He offered bits of roasted mirelurk to the tourists, most of whom politely declined as dinner had apparently just been served. Cutler wasn’t too upset about missing dinner, with an overwhelming synth population, snack cakes seemed to replace every meal and it was driving Cutler crazy.

“It sneezes and absolutely covers Cutler, head to toe, in its snot! Grossest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Cutler scowled and shook his head. “Bullshit.”

Deacon shrugged and laughed. “Just being authentic, nobody’s judging.”

“That’s you Deacon, the king of authenticity.”

“See Dez,” Deacon looked over his shoulder, “stop telling everyone I’m a liar. Cutler backs me up!”

Dez ignored them with practiced ease.

* * *

“I’m Cutler,” Cutler gestured to himself, before turning to a smug-looking Deacon, “and this son of a bitch is Deacon.”

Stockton rolled his eyes. The three escaped synths shuffled their feet nervously.

“You can trust them,” Stockton promised. “They’ll get you anywhere you need to be, even if they goof around more than they should.”

“Boss wants us to be kinder to each other,” Deacon said.

Cutler laughed and eyed the escapees. Every time the two of them helped escort, they played within their usual banter. Newly escaped synths always found it jarring, but nevertheless, refreshing. They once helped a woman who ended the journey by smacking Deacon so hard on the back that the man had fallen face-first into a puddle of mud. No one had ever joined the banter that quickly, but Deacon liked to keep the option available.

“I’m M7-97.” The tallest of the three synths introduced himself. He seemed to be their selected leader, the other two stood behind him. “This is G1-58,” M7 gestured to a skinny looking man with thick brown hair. “And this is T4-19.” T4 cocked her head at the two of them. She seemed to have used up what was left of her confidence with that nod because she quickly ducked back behind M7’s tall frame.

“Safe travels.” Stockton squeezed Cutler’s shoulder before ducking out of the partially caved in diner they had agreed to meet in.

“Alright, kiddos!” Deacon clapped his hands. “You rest easy, Cutler and I are going to get you home just in time for dinner.”

“What is he saying?” G1 asked. M7 raised a single finger to his lips as a reminder to keep silent.

“It’s best that you guys stay quiet so you don’t accidentally say something jarring,” Cutler explained. “People in the Commonwealth have these specific mannerisms and dialogues and we don’t want you guys interacting with anyone until we teach you how to best adapt.”

The synths nodded their understanding before the group of five departed into the night. Cutler’s laser rifle buzzed its familiar frequency in his grasp. Deacon’s weapon was holstered securely to his side. The escapees didn’t have weapons, anyone unfamiliar with how to hold them were obviously identifiable.

“If you look to your left,” Deacon said conversationally, trying to get the synths to loosen up a bit, “you’ll see the prettiest collapsed hallway in all the Commonwealth.”

“On your right,” Cutler picked up, “the peaceful radstag gazes over his land.”

“Listen, Cutler here once tried to pet a radstag.”

“Wasn’t too bad either, fed her a tato and got a few solid pats in before she ran off. Deacon here though, not as peaceful, he threw a grenade at a deathclaw.”

Deacon cackled. “Took the shot completely blind, let my instincts guide me. The deathclaw had its mouth open and that grenade goes right down its throat, then boom! The fucker blew right into a billion pieces. Took forever to wash the blood out.”

G1 and T4 looked at Deacon with awe-inspired looks. M7 frowned.

“You’ll adjust soon enough,” Cutler said for M7’s benefit. The synth’s tense back and heavy frown made him look more awkward than intimidating. Cutler learned that most synths were learning not only how to adjust to a new way of life, but they were also learning how to interpret and express emotions. “Sooner or later, you guys will have good stories to tell and friends to back you up.”

Deacon nodded, dropping his smug facade for something more serious. “If I can do it, you can do it.”

The group settled into a smoother energy as their shoes crumpled the loose gravel under their feet. G1 bit at his nails and glued himself to Deacon’s side. T4 eagerly took in their surroundings with some sort of childlike wonder. M7 fell in line with Cutler, the light from the lantern looped around Cutler’s belt reflected on M7’s face. The synth was stoic, his face frozen in the heavy frown. The only sign of real life flickered in his amber eyes with each step that rustled the lantern.

Cutler wasn’t sure what to say. Most of the agents in the Railroad were rescued synths and were much better at helping with transitions. Cutler himself had been kidnapped from a settlement to the east. Two agents had wandered through with escaped synths and while disposing of the raiders, they offered safe travel to Cutler too. He ended up back at the Switchboard and Sam asked him if he would risk his life for his fellow man, even if that man was a synth. The answer was an obvious yes and Cutler found himself brought into the Railroad family.

While Cutler had faced many hardships in his life, but he never had to fight so desperately for his freedom or to fight to justify his own existence. Deacon wasn’t saying anything to the group, he rarely gave deep insights, so Cutler followed his lead and let the silence persist.

The five of them traveled south, undisturbed, for almost six hours. A gentle rain had started falling on them around the time they passed Diamond City, much to the surprise of the escapees who eyed the sky curiously to find the source.

“It’s the simple things, really.” Deacon mumbled as he lit a cigarette. “Almost shit my pants the first time I felt the wind.”

“I never even thought of that,” Cutler said, keeping his voice low as they avoided mutant dens.

“Most people don’t.”

“Will we be stopping to rest?”

Deacon and Cutler whipped their heads to stare at M7. The two of them figured that T4 would be the first to break the silence.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cutler responded. “Once we’re out of downtown, there will be safer places to stop for a breather.”

M7 nodded his satisfaction, his eyes protectively going over the other two synths who look dead tired. Cutler waved the three of them to the front of the group to make sure he and Deacon, who had plenty of stamina from repeated trips across the Commonwealth, didn’t get too far ahead from their charges. G1 and T4 leaned against M7 as exhaustion nestled its way further in. There was some dynamic there that Cutler was hoping would get brought up once the escapees were safe to speak in the safehouse. 

* * *

“That’s an Institute laser rifle.” M7’s large hands hovered for a moment over the weapon, before he seemed to get the better of himself. He let his arms fall to his sides.

“Yeah, a few Gen-2s took my shotgun a while back so I had to improvise. I think I like this one better, it has that good ozone smell. Tom messed with it a bit and turned the laser red so I’m identifiable in a fight and Deacon doesn’t accidentally shoot me.” 

The five of them reached the safehouse without incident a few days ago. Now, Cutler and Deacon were waiting for a good opportunity to head back to the Switchboard. T4 and G1, now going by the names Hannah and Parker respectively, were adjusting better to Commonwealth life than M7 who kept his comments selective and tensed with every new lesson.

Cutler picked up his laser rifle and held it out to M7 as an offering. It couldn’t hurt to keep him talking. “Do you know a lot about laser rifles?”

M7 took the rifle and examined it carefully. “I worked in Advanced Systems.” 

“What did you do there?”

A small smile tugged on M7’s lips. “I took existing technology and modified it for higher efficiency.”

“Sounds like a lot of responsibility for a synth.” Cutler cringed the moment he spoke the words out loud.

“The runaways aren’t usually the ones who are important to the Institute,” M7 said softly. “Trusted synths were given more solidified jobs in the departments rather than the basic handiwork.” M7 caught Cutler’s curious frown. “G1 and T4 were attempting to escape, a courser was going to execute them before they made it halfway out of the Institute and I couldn’t just stand by and let that happen.”

Cutler felt himself smile. “You saved them.”

M7 shrugged non-committedly. “Us synths, we’re brothers and sisters in a sense. I can’t betray them.”

“I still think that was very brave.” Cutler watched M7 fiddle with the rifle. “Railroad could use someone like you.”

M7’s head snapped up. “What?” The laser rifle almost clattered back onto the table, M7 caught it at the last moment.

Cutler lost his train of thought. M7’s big brown eyes grew wide with surprise and Cutler could only process how cute he was.

“The Railroad,” Cutler said after a moment. “Risking your life for that of a fellow man.”

“Synths aren’t people,” M7 spoke slowly, as if he were trying to find a nicer way to articulate it, but couldn’t quite do it. “We’re machines, unfeeling, and best utilized in a variety of practical settings based on programmed intelligence.”

“I suppose, but you could say the same thing about me, and any other human. You’re programmed by some component, I’m programed by some neurons. As far as I’m concerned, the two do the same job.”

“You’ve experienced things,” M7 insisted, “you have memories of a family, you grew up and experienced changes. Synths are made as we are, there is no development there.”

“Development has to be there,” Cutler said. “Unless they program you guys to run off.”

M7 set the rifle down on the table. “I think I’m going to go rest.”

“Wait.” Cutler sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t necessarily want to leave the Institute. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” M7 seemed to be confused as to why Cutler was trying to in the first place.

“I do need to apologize, I knew that comment was uncalled for.” Cutler sighed. “Listen, you have the right to be treated with respect.”

“Thank you,” M7 said after a moment. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

* * *

“M7-97 won’t pick a name.” 

Cutler reached out for the can of purified water. The one synth he had managed to escort huddled himself in the corner of the safehouse. “Can you give me a minute to breathe?” 

Blackbird eyed Cutler impatiently. “That’s B9-32.” Cutler nodded his head to the quivering synth. Blackbird made his way over to the synth while Cutler finished his water. Deacon was off pretending to be a guard in Diamond City or some drifter in Goodneighbor, Cutler hadn’t been paying attention when Dez told him. So it was up to Cutler to escort the newly freed synth by himself. The overall trip had been easy enough, until the last few miles when the two had to run from a hoard of ferals that were disturbed by a stunted yao guai. 

Cutler tossed the empty can toward the workbench and made his way up the stairs. M7 had opted to stay at the safehouse while Hannah and Parker were moved to a settlement up north. The offer to join HQ was still ignored and it seemed that M7 was preferring to spend his time tinkering with things until a purpose in life landed directly in his lap.

“Hey, M7.” Cutler leaned against the doorframe of the room M7 had claimed. The recently freed synth was examining a T-45 power armor helmet. 

“Hello, Cutler.” The helmet was set down on the mattress and M7 offered him a gentle smile. In the past month, M7 had started growing stubble. Cutler swallowed the lump in his throat, it almost seemed like M7 was getting more attractive with each conversation they had.

“BB said that you’ve been camping out for a bit.” Cutler walked further into the room. M7 kept it relatively clean. There were bits and pieces of scrap organized in the corners of the room. Shelves must have been built, but those held M7’s tools. Cutler noticed that synths didn’t often fall into pre-war stereotypes, but there was something complexly mechanical with M7’s skills.

M7 ducked his head. “I’m not really sure what to do with myself.”

“It’s tough out there,” Cutler granted him, “but you’re going to have to pull the stim needle out eventually.”

“Blackbird wants me to pick a name.” M7 got up from the bed and grabbed the worn book sitting on the nightstand. Cutler recognized the book, it was a list of baby names to help pre-war families name their infants. “I don’t understand how that works. Do all people pick their names?”

“My parents named me,” Cutler said hesitantly, unsure where M7 was with hearing other people’s experiences. “They named me Johann.”

“Why that name?” M7 sat down on the edge of the mattress, moved the helmet, and patted the spot so Cutler could join him.

Cutler sat next to M7, their thighs brushed together and Cutler looked at the laser rifle mods on the adjacent wall rather than M7’s curious brown eyes. “My granddad was named Johann. He died when my ma was just a little girl, but he really meant a lot to her, so I was named in his honor.”

“Oh.” M7 frowned and fiddled with his fingers.

Cutler clapped his hand on M7’s back. “Listen, we are going to find you a name. You’ll hear it and things will just click into place.”

“I really don’t think so.”

“How about something starting with an ‘M’? That’d be a good place to start.”

M7 shook his head. “I thought you wanted me to distance myself from the Institute. Why would I have a name with the same letter as my binary identification code?” 

“Did anyone have names in the Institute?”

“The scientists and their families all have names. It’s a human trait, not a synth one.”

Cutler frowned. “A name is so much more than that, it’s-” Cutler waved his hand as he tried to find a way to articulate his thoughts. “It’s who you are. It’s like your stamp on the world and it’s-” Cutler sighed. “It’s like a dance, I guess, a dance in the distinction between self and others. A name identifies you to the rest of the world and steadies you in an identity.” 

“A dance,” M7 repeated slowly. “I like that. Maybe that can be my name.”

Cutler laughed. “Dance is a verb, not a name.”

M7’s shoulders hunched and Cutler quickly backtracked. “But then again, I doubt you’d find Cutler in that book. Dance can be your surname. We’ll spell it with an ‘S’ for a little bit of flavor.”

The corners of Danse’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.

* * *

J2-77 crumpled into a pile of fluorescent blue ash. There wasn’t a moment to fully process the loss as another blue shot burned through the air in Cutler’s direction. He threw himself behind the shell of a pre-war car. “Deacon!”

“I got my own problems going on!” 

Cutler sucked in ragged breaths as the Gen-2’s made their way around the car. He and Deacon had been too casual about their escort. They hadn’t been as discreet as they should have been and now the synth who had trusted them was dead in the ground, his remains blowing away in the wind.

With his laser rifle gripped tightly in his hands, Cutler aimed at the head of the nearest Gen-2 and let the burst of red explode its mechanical head. In the fallen synth’s place, two more Gen-2s seemed to appear. Cutler pulled the trigger of the rifle, but nothing happened. He needed to reload. “Deacon!”

“I got my own problems!”

Cutler pushed his body away from the car and took off sprinting down the alleyway. The creaking of metal followed him as he turned a corner and clambered up the ladder of a fire escape. He grabbed onto the rusted railing and pulled, severing a large piece with a loud clang. Cutler steadied his hand and looked down the ladder. The handful of Gen-2s holstered their weapons to follow him. When the first’s head passed over the top of the building, Cutler swung his metal rod and knocked the synth off the ladder. It landed on the ground and crumpled like an aluminum can. Cutler dropped the rod on the ground and swung his rifle from his shoulder back into his hands. The synths on the ladder paused to recompute. Cutler used that time to reload. He then aimed his rifle down and shot a laser, severing the synth in half and letting it fall to the ground.

The Gen-2s went down the ladder and chose to aim their Institute issue laser rifles up to shoot at Cutler. The man flattened himself against the roof and maneuvered his bag off of his shoulders. He pulled at the zipper and blindly reached for the compact, laser and bullet resistant, box. Cutler flicked it open and carefully extracted a single grenade. “Deacon!”

“Own problems!”

Deacon’s voice was coming from the street rather than the alley. Cutler pulled the pin from the grenade and tossed it down the ladder. A few moments later, an explosion shook the building and mechanical limbs flew up into the sky before tumbling back down. Cutler pulled his bag over his head to protect himself from shrapnel.

“Cutler!”

The man in question packed the box back into his duffle bag and moved to the opposite side of the roof. He steadied his laser rifle and looked down. Deacon was crouching in a dumpster and was taking weak shots with a 10mm. The Gen-2s were closing in on him.

Cutler considered responding back to let Deacon know that he hadn’t just blown up in a similar fashion as the exaggerated deathclaw incident, but instead, he chose to crimple the leg of the synth approaching Deacon with a shock baton.

The fight cooled down and within two minutes, Cutler had sniped each of the Gen-2’s. Deacon leaped out of the dumpster and called up to him. “Do you have the package?”

“Compromised,” Cutler called back, looking down at the concrete to try to see the ash J2 was compacted into. He couldn’t quite see it in the dark; the blue fluorescent excrement of the laser had faded away.

“Come down here, let’s tell them what happened.”

“Gotcha.” Cutler stood and made his way over to the ladder. “Deacon, there’s a problem.”

“What is it?” Deacon sighed dramatically.

Cutler nodded even though he was no longer in Deacon’s eye line. “I blew up the ladder.”

Deacon ran into the alley, climbed over the remains of the Gen-2s and looked up. Sure enough, the bottom half of the ladder was shrapnel on the ground. “You could jump,” Deacon offered.

“You couldn’t catch me.” Cutler swung his legs over the side of the building and hesitantly put his first foot on the ladder. Deacon might be able to catch him if Cutler used all the ladder still available. The ladder creaked ominously under the weight of one foot.

“Stay there,” Deacon instructed him. “I don’t want you to fall and become paste.”

“Fantastic, what should I do then?”

“I’ll go get some help, hang tight.”

With that, Deacon scampered off into the night.

Cutler laid on his back and stared up at the stars. His heart ached for J2; the synth had been so grateful for his chance at freedom. J2 had hugged him tightly, the tears he had cried on Cutler’s shoulder had only just dried when J2 died. Why did the Institute program the Gen-3s to cry? Cutler pushed the palms of his hands to his eyes. His shoulders shook and his teeth dug into his quivering bottom lip.

* * *

“Johann?”

Cutler sat up quickly. He felt disoriented for a moment, the sun rising in the sky temporarily blinded him. He was still stranded on the top of a three-story building. A yawn creeped its way out of his body and Cutler realized he must have fallen asleep. Now that he was more awake, Cutler placed Danse’s voice. He must be the help Deacon sent for him. 

Cutler looked down the side of the building. Danse was climbing over the remains of Gen-2s. He was taking the fallen fusion cells and tucking them away in a bag hanging off one of his shoulders. The clothes Blackbird had given him were surprising fitting for Danse’s tall and broad frame. His back muscles flexed under the thin material of the off white shirt. Cutler’s mouth went dry and, again, he was faced with the question of whether or not Danse was getting more attractive with each of their meetings.

“Johann?” Danse had finished collecting his fusion cells. His deep voice called out Cutler’s given name once again.

“I’m up here.”

Danse’s head turned in his direction. A frown settled on his features. “How did you get up there?”

“I wasn’t thinking and I tossed a grenade.”

“Like Deacon and the deathclaw?”

“He didn’t blow it up from the inside,” Cutler said abrasively, not quite sure why he was feeling the need to one-up Deacon. “He threw a dud, asked if he could pay it caps to play dead, then ran into a tunnel the damn thing couldn’t fit in.”

Danse didn’t seem to care whichever way the story went. “Okay, do you have a plan that I can assist with?”

“No, not really.” Cutler sighed. “I can throw you down my bag and my rifle, then maybe you can catch me?”

Danse nodded. He was sturdier than Deacon and Cutler tried not to imagine falling into Danse’s strong arms and having the man hold him close. Danse would look at him with those big brown eyes and there would be a moment when they both knew that Danse should set Cutler back on the ground, but neither one of them would want to let go.

“Johann, I’m ready for you to throw your things down.”

“Right, sorry.” Cutler tossed his duffle bag, which Danse caught effortlessly. The rifle was harder to toss, Cutler was attached to it and he felt his heart drop as he let it fall from his fingers. Danse caught the laser rifle and set it down gently on the ground next to his own bag and Cutler’s duffle bag. 

“This might have better results for both of us if you were to jump from a point closer to the ground.”

“The whole building groans when I do that.” Cutler braced his foot on the top rung and pressed down, causing the metal to creak. 

“We’re both facing probability of injury if you were to jump from that height.”

“Danse,” Cutler sighed. “I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, I’m tired. Please try to figure something out.”

“On it!” Danse looked around. “Give me a few minutes; I’ll think of something.”

Cutler laid back down on the roof and twiddled his thumbs over his chest. Deacon wouldn’t have to do much to doctor this story into something insane, maybe when he gets back to HQ no one will give him shit because they’ll all think it’s exaggerated. How would Dez react if Cutler starved to death on a rooftop? That’d be a funny report, Deacon would get a kick out of it.

Danse was making a ruckus down below. Cutler wondered if he was allowed to make all sorts of noises in the Institute. They were the boogeyman, who did they have to be afraid of? How long does it usually take for escaped synths to learn the appropriate level of fear? When do they start looking over their shoulders?

Deacon and most of the escaped synths must have been looking over their shoulders from the moment they were made. Otherwise, they’d still be enslaved to whatever degrading task they had been programmed for. Danse hadn’t intended on leaving, maybe that’s why he refused to leave the safehouse. He hadn’t learned to be afraid of the world around him, and now it was all hitting him at once.

“Johann!” Danse called up to him.

Cutler sat up and looked down. Danse must have gone into nearby buildings and drug all the soft things he could find to make some sort of landing pad. Cutler counted at least four stacked mattresses and an armful of assorted pillows. Danse also gathered some loose clothing and a teddy bear.

“Try to climb down the ladder as far as you can,” Danse instructed him. “If you fall, you’ll land somewhat better than you would at full height.”

“I don’t want the ladder to fall on top of me,” Cutler said. Now that he was actually going to act on getting down, his hands started sweating.

“It’s a risk you’ll have to take, Johann.”

“Fuck this,” Cutler mumbled under his breath. He wiped his hands on his pants and braced his leg on the ladder. The metal creaked ominously, but Cutler sucked in a deep breath and powered through. Once his whole body was on the ladder, he could feel the ladder sway in the breeze, the braces holding to the building visibly quivered. Cutler closed his eyes tightly and tried to force his body to move, but he found himself frozen.

“If you fall I will make sure you land in the right place.” Danse’s deep baritone reminded Cutler to breathe.

“I’m scared,” Cutler mumbled.

Danse didn’t respond, likely because he couldn’t hear Cutler over the distance.

“You can do it,” Danse coached after a beat of silence. “Move your right foot down a rung, don’t even think about it.”

Cutler did as he was told. The ladder shook and Cutler whimpered. “Danse!”

“Don’t worry, I’m still here.”

Cutler turned his head and look down below his feet. Danse nodded up to him encouragingly. Forcing another breath, Cutler allowed Danse to guide him to the bottom of the splinted ladder. Cutler was hanging two stories off the ground. 

“You need to let go, Johann.” 

“I know!” Cutler bit at his bottom lip. “I know, just give me a second.”

Danse picked up their bags off the ground and swung them over his shoulders before reaching to pick up Cutler’s laser rifle. 

Cutler, before he could process his thoughts, let his hands go free from the ladder. He fell backward and watched the sky move further and further out of his grasp. His stomach lurched and his body braced for impact. Cutler’s back slammed into the mattress pile, and the air forcefully left his lungs. Once he could breathe again, Cutler took a mental inventory of his body. Nothing seemed to be broken, but his back would most definitely be sore for a while.

“That wasn’t as smooth as I predicted it would be,” Danse said apologetically. He sat on top of the mattress pile next to Cutler’s sprawled form. 

Cutler raised his shaking right hand to show Danse a feeble thumb’s up.

Danse took his hand and Cutler gasped at the contact. His cold hand was warmed by Danse’s touch, almost like the embrace of the Switchboard after a particularly difficult mission.

“You got me off the roof,” Cutler said, keeping himself still so Danse wouldn’t feel the need to move. “You’re my hero now.”

Danse shrugged and ducked his head away. “I’d say we’re about even.”

Cutler opened his mouth to agree, but Danse interrupted him. “I’m sure if you were up there long enough, you could have figured out a way down. I don’t want to compare something like this to the risk you put yourself through to keep me, T4, and G1 safe from the Institute.”

“Danse,” Cutler squeezed the other man’s hand gently. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

Danse’s face was still turned away, but Cutler could see the man’s ears and neck turning red.

“You’re welcome, Johann.”

* * *

Cutler sat his bag down near the doorway of the safehouse. Dez had given him time off to decompress and for some reason, Cutler’s legs had led him hours south to the safehouse Blackbird maned. Cutler could see Danse through the archway leading from the foyer to the kitchen. He was taking a box of Fancy Lads out of the cupboard and eating them hurriedly. Cutler chuckled under his breath, snack cakes always went quick with the Railroad’s synth population. 

“Hey, Danse.”

Danse jumped and the box fell out of his hands. “Johann!” He turned and gave Cutler a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Boss gave me some time off.” Cutler rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you want to go with me to Diamond City?”

“What’s in Diamond City?” Danse asked.

Cutler breathed a quiet sigh of relief, Danse only left the safe house once since arriving months ago. “Lots of shops and people. It’s a community.”

Danse bent down and picked up the box of snack cakes. “I don’t think I’d be welcome there.”

“People wouldn’t know you were a synth unless you told them,” Cutler said gently. He made his way into the kitchen. “And you just wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t like to lie,” Danse mumbled.

Cutler put his hand on Danse’s bicep. “Hey, it’s not your fault the world is full of bigots. They should be the ones to feel bad that you have to lie, not you.”

“I don’t know,” Danse evaded. He raised his other hand to take more snack cakes out of the box.

“We have an informant in the city, I’m sure he’d love to buy some of your mods.”

Danse’s amber eyes brightened and Cutler knew he had him. “I suppose I could go with you.”

Cutler tried to stifle his grin. “Let’s head out in an hour!”

After an hour passed and Cutler gave his tired legs a break, the two headed north toward the city. Cutler had his familiar duffle bag and laser rifle, and Danse had his own over the shoulder bag and a custom laser rifle he had built for himself while bored in the safehouse.

“Do you think I could give you a few caps and you could modify my rifle?” Cutler asked a little way into their journey. Their pace was slower than his solo trips and his excursions with Deacon, but Danse was only just learning the landscape, and Cutler didn’t want to rush him.

“I couldn’t take your caps,” Danse said. “But I’m sure there’s something I could do with your rifle. Is there anything specific you want to be done?”

Cutler shrugged, keeping his mind away from the potential double meaning of that sentence. “The recoil can be a bit much sometimes.”

“We’ll work on that when we get back,” Danse promised him. “I’ll see if I can get some more building materials when we’re in the city.”

When they stepped into the Great Green Jewel, Danse tensed and he grabbed onto Cutler’s hand to steady himself. Crowds were always a shock and Cutler suspected the busy environment reminded him of the home he was forced to abandon. Cutler squeezed Danse’s hand in support and when Danse didn’t flinch away, Cutler neatly intertwined their fingers. “Come on,” Cutler encouraged. “You’re going to love it here.”

Their hands parted when Danse stopped to talk to Arturo and Cutler wandered off to check up on a few synths that had been relocated to the city. Diamond City would be an ideal place to settle down, Cutler thought to himself as he sat down at a picnic table near a stage at the back of the city. The population was so high that nobody would notice his long absences. There would be a place he could return home to with enough supplied nearby to not have to worry about salvaging. Not many in the Railroad ever stopped to consider an end goal. Everyone was so caught up in the day to day that a future with no Institute and the leisure to live life freely seemed like some sort of pipe dream. Cutler’s heart ached for his home; the crumpled shack he occupied with his mother, father, and two older sisters. Life had been so simple back then. He had the resources to make his way back, but- Cutler paused his musing to smile at an approaching Danse.

Danse proudly showed a small sack, barely tied shut by the number of caps stacked inside. Cutler stood from the bench and took Danse’s free hand again. 

“Do we head back home now?” Danse asked him.

Cutler shook his head. “I’ve done too much walking today. I was thinking we would rent a room at the Dugout.”

“Is your back still in disarray?” Danse asked as they climbed the stairs to the walkway on 2nd street.

“I’ve been taking it easy, I think that’s why the boss is letting me take a little vacation.” Cutler pushed himself onto his tiptoes and nudged his shoulder evenly against Danse’s as they walked. “You’re sweet to worry about me.”

Danse’s face went red and his eyes widened. “Are you flirting with me, Johann?”

Cutler bit his lip; maybe he was taking advantage of Danse’s naivety. He quickly withdrew his hand from Danse’s.

A tense silence enveloped the two men as they turned right toward the Dugout Inn. They approached the Inn and Cutler held the door open for Danse. The taller man ducked his head away as he walked past Cutler.

Danse held himself in a corner while Cutler rented the room from one of the Bobrov twins. It was still too early to go to sleep and Danse looked like a kicked mongrel whimpering in the corner. Cutler ordered two nukas, getting Danse drunk for the first time probably wasn’t the best idea for a first outing into the world and made his way back over to the man.

“Try this,” Cutler said softly, keeping a good solid foot between them.

Danse took the nuka-cola without complaint and gave it a nod of approval after he took his first tip.

“I was flirting with you,” Cutler told him. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, I’m not expecting anything from you.”

“I’m not expecting anything from you either,” Danse said, letting his eyes meet Cutler’s. There were words Danse wanted to say, and Cutler could see him visibly swallow them.

Cutler opened his own nuka-cola and took a long drink. Danse was maintaining eye contact and in the low light of the bar, Cutler couldn’t help but to think that he’d been treating Danse more gently than he necessarily needed to. Warmth filled his body and Cutler felt as though he was looking into the eyes of a capable man rather than escaped synth M7-97.

“You’re a mystery to me, Danse,” Cutler said softly. “There’s so much I want to learn about you.”

“Come on, Johann.” Danse set his nuka on a tabletop and gently took Cutler’s too. “I want to know you too.”

Then, to the surprise of both of them judging by Danse’s nervousness, Danse pulled Cutler into the mass of disorganized bodies swaying to the songs on the radio. Danse’s hands were shaking as he placed them on Cutler’s waist. Cutler offered him a reassuring smile as he looped his arms up around Danse’s neck. He took a step forward and pressed his chest against Danse’s and let the taller man lead the gentle sway.

Cutler pushed himself onto his tiptoes again to get the two inches needed to press his forehead against Danse’s. 

“Why do you like me, Johann?” Danse asked, his breath meeting with Cutler’s in the inch between their lips.

Cutler closed his eyes, the intensity of Danse’s beautiful amber eyes mixed with the steady beating of his heart against Cutler’s chest was too much. “You’re selfless and you’re kind. You make me see the world in a different way.”

Danse laughed. “That’s why I like you too.”

Cutler moved his hands into Danse’s coarse dark hair. He opened his eyes to watch Danse’s face as he slowly moved his head closer. Danse’s eyes widened with realization, but he didn’t move away when their lips touched.

There wasn’t a spark like the pre-war books described. Instead, there was a calmness and a closing of the world to a point where Cutler truly believed and he and Danse were the only two people on the planet. He moved his lips against Danse’s slowly, for the first time in a long while not feeling any sort of rush.

They eventually pulled back for air and Cutler lowered himself flat onto his feet. “I was flirting with you,” Cutler said with a laugh, not entirely sure how to process the happiness he was feeling.

“I want it to mean something,” Danse said softly.

“Yeah, me too.” He moved one of his hands from Danse’s hair to the back of his neck so he could pull him in for another kiss.

* * *

“Do you think we’ll ever have peace?” Cutler mused as he, Deacon, and Glory sat in a circle sorting all the miscellaneous ammunition they found over the months into their specific boxes.

The Switchboard was humming with activity, a new safehouse had been secured in an old hospital and it was cause for celebration. Dez was giving them easy chores as a quiet acknowledgment of how hard the trio worked to secure Augusta. Deacon and Glory enjoyed staying at HQ, it was home. Cutler felt the same until a month ago.

“Why?” Deacon asked. “Are you and Loverboy going to get hitched and start a farm?”

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened,” Cutler said. “We would have all the time in the world just to live.”

Glory shook her head. “It ain’t gonna happen. Those Institute bastards are going to hunt us to the ends of the Earth.”

“You made the mistake of falling in love with a synth,” Deacon said, clapping him on the back. “You could’ve wandered away at any time and lived your Institute meddling free life.”

Cutler swatted his hand away. “Love’s a bit strong, don’t you think? We only just got together.”

“You wouldn’t last without the Railroad,” Glory said plainly. Both Deacon and Cutler titled their heads and gave her confused looks.

“I have survival skills if anything I think I’d last longer without the Railroad.”

Glory shook her head. “You need a purpose, Cutler. Nobody is stopping you from your idyllic feet up kind of fantasy, but you’d grow to hate it.”

Cutler frowned. His family and home settlement were still out there, he knew the way back. Instead of helping his father bring the crops in, he sat in a circle of synths working as a spy to free them from the biggest threat the Commonwealth had ever known. Would he have hated his life old if he hadn’t been kidnapped? He never would have met Danse.

“I miss Danse,” Cutler mumbled after a moment. Deacon and Glory shared a glance, the two were well aware of the fact based on Cutler’s constant lamenting.

“What’s Danse’s deal anyways?” Deacon put a specific emphasis on the ‘s’ of anyways just to watch Glory’s eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

“His deal?” Cutler asked.

Deacon didn’t move his sunglasses up, but Cutler and Glory knew he was rolling his eyes. “He’s taking up space in the safehouse. We might as well relieve Blackbird of duty at this point.”

“Send BB to Augusta,” Cutler said dismissively. “He was talking about how he wanted a change of scenery.” 

“Leave the shuffling to Dez,” Glory said. She tossed a bullet at him. “Focus, boys, I don’t want to be here all night.”

“No, no, no.” Deacon was smirking. “I want to know when Danse is going to stop freeloading. It’s been months.”

Cutler glared at him. “He’s going through a lot, Deacon, cut him some slack.”

“Everyone is going through a lot,” Deacon responded. “If anything, we should have had him packing the minute you found out that he’s still Institute loyal.”

“He is not Institute loyal!” Cutler spoke loudly before forcing himself to breathe deeply. He didn’t want to attract the attention of everyone in the main room. “Danse is loyal to our cause. He believes that synths are his brothers and sisters and he has proven that he will risk his own safety for their protection. Do not insult him like that again.”

Deacon put his palms up as a gesture of peace. “Don’t get worked up about it, Cutler. It doesn’t change the fact that your boyfriend is hiding away to rot.”

“What Danse does is none of your business, Deacon.” Cutler hissed. “He’s not bothering you and last I checked the safehouse was still secure and had enough room to properly act as a transfer point.”

“Last I heard,” Deacon started, his voice going high pitched in a childish impression of Cutler.

“Knock it off,” Glory intervened. “You’re both children.”

“He left me on a roof!”

“You threw a grenade at the ladder!”

“Enough!” Glory slapped both of her hands down on her thighs. “Deacon, not another word about Danse. Cutler, focus on sorting.”

* * *

“What do you want to do with the rest of your life?” Cutler traced aimless patterns on Danse’s broad chest.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Danse responded his voice heavy with sleep. Cutler was tucked between Danse’s large frame and the wall. His legs tangled with Danse’s and his head was rested on Danse’s shoulder with the man’s arm thrown protectively over his back. Cutler had arrived at the safehouse the night before with another newly freed synth and promptly went upstairs to Danse’s room and collapsed on the bed in a fit of exhaustion.

Cutler peered up at Danse. “Have you thought about it?”

Danse moved his free hand to brush Cutler’s curls off of his forehead so he could more clearly see his face. “Have you?”

“A bit. I keep having these dreams where we live in Diamond City. You work selling mods and I keep an eye on the Railroad informants that pass through. We go to the Dugout every night for dinner and we climb up on top of that green wall and we watch the sunrise. Stuff like that, real domestic.”

Danse frowned and pondered Cutler’s words. “That sounds,” Danse paused as he tried to think of an explanation, “not very much like me.”

Cutler propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Danse. “Not very much like you?”

Danse averted his eyes. “I miss being a part of something bigger.” He moved his hand off of Cutler’s back, almost as if he were drawing himself way instead of having Cutler push him away. “I miss the honor that comes with upholding values larger than myself.”

“You miss the Institute.” Cutler didn’t mean for the words to come out so cold, but he didn’t take them back.

“Yes,” Danse confessed with a whisper. 

“After all the Railroad has done for you?” Cutler crawled over Danse as quickly as he could to get off the bed. “What could the Institute possibly offer you that I can’t?”

Danse’s thick eyebrows knitted together as he sat up. “I’m not ungrateful for the Railroad’s assistance-”

Cutler shook his head and crossed his arms tightly against his chest. “Yeah, we got that. We can’t get you to leave.”

“You want me to leave, but you want to offer me things the Institute can’t?”

“You’re putting a lot of pressure on me, Danse!” Cutler tried to steady himself, but he felt his knees shaking. Why was it that he could hold himself steady in a fight, but any kind of serious conversation had him shaking like a branch in the wind? “HQ is giving me shit because you’ve decided to hunker down, when I go out on missions I miss you, and I just want to have a neat domestic life but everyone says that I’d hate it. You’d think that I would be the one to make that call. I thought you would back me up, but instead, you have some longing for the Commonwealth’s biggest slavers. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Danse looked at him with shock and Cutler could see the hurt flickering in his eyes. “Maybe this relationship between us was a mistake,” Danse said the words smoothly, almost robotically, like he was trying to avoid punishment from an egghead. “Whether it’s you, or it’s me, or a bit of both, we obviously have some issues that need to be worked out.”

Cutler shook his head in denial as tears clouded his eyesight.

“We need some time to reflect and regain confidence in our relationship. When the time is right, we can talk about it again.”

“I’m not a child, Danse,” Cutler held his arms tighter across his chest. He forced himself not to blink, not wanting to force the tears from his eyes in front of Danse. “I don’t need a time out.”

Danse shook his head. “There are issues that we need to work out, I think we would have a more productive conversation after we’ve both had time to think.”

Cutler threw his hands up. “Fine! Whatever you want!” He grabbed his duffle bag and his rifle. He stepped out into the hallway and pushed past Blackbird. The tears were flowing on their own accord and he needed to be alone.

* * *

“Danse and I broke up.” Cutler tossed his duffle bag under the bunk bed he shared with Deacon back at HQ. “Go ahead, make fun of me.”

Deacon shrugged from where he was laying on the top bunk. “I’ll get to it. It’s too easy right now.”

Cutler climbed onto his bunk and stared up the metal frame above him. He held his rifle against his chest and tried not to picture Danse’s proud face when he presented the modifications he specially made.

“Maybe you’re not Railroad material,” Deacon said casually. 

“I thought you were going to wait,” Cutler responded, having to focus to keep his voice from shaking.

Deacon poked his head down to look at Cutler, the stupid wig he always seemed to be wearing fell to the ground in a lump. The sunglasses started to fall over his forehead, but Deacon quickly moved his hand to steady them. “Agents need to be tough and they can’t let themselves mourn every life we lose. It sucks, man, no one is saying it doesn’t. There comes a point where you have to move on. You freak out the newbies when you bring up the dead. Like the other day when you were telling someone about J2, we have to keep morale high.”

“You’re going to get on my case for low morale? Every conversation with Dez is either some radical nonsense idea or bad news.”

“Dez is the boss, that’s part of her job. It’s our job to have confidence and it’s her job to carry the burdens.”

“Alright,” Cutler sighed. “You’ve made a point, I’ll shut up about it.”

“It’s not just that though,” Deacon continued. “Nobody wants to work with you while you have all these daydreams about running away. It’ll be super cool to see you hanging out in some dump out there, but it’s not all the comforting to imagine you getting to the dump because you ditched out in the middle of something important.”

“That’s a pipe dream!” Cutler set the rifle on the mattress behind him and pressed his palms to his eyes. “Danse already got on my case about that one, I’m not going to bring that up ever again.”

“Go home, Cutler,” Deacon said, the bed creaking as he pushed himself back onto his mattress. “You’re on thin ice around here and nobody is happy with how often you bring up the only non-courser in Boston who’d kill for the Institute.”

Cutler shook his head, ignoring the sharp stab of rejection in his heart. “I’ve dedicated the past three years to the Railroad. I have been nothing but loyal. What changed?”

“Danse,” Deacon said as if were obvious. “Your priorities.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Cutler snapped. “It was a fling and it’s over. I’ve only known him for a few months.”

“Then why have you considered everything I just said?”

Cutler pressed his palms further into his head. “The Railroad needs agents.”

“Switchboard is secure, everything else is an afterthought. If it’ll make you feel better, I can tell Dez you died.”

Cutler bit his lip. Why was he considering it? “What’s in it for you, Deacon?”

“I like having you owe me a favor.”

Cutler’s heart rate sped up. The warmth of Switchboard was quickly turning into a furnace. The secure walls felt more enclosing than ever.

“Okay,” Cutler whispered, unsure if he was making the right choice. “I’ll go home. Don’t tell Dez, I’m dead. My family lives here in the Commonwealth.”

“Gotcha, a courser’s after you, so you went undercover.”

“Okay, Deacon.”

* * *

He left the Switchboard in the early hours of the morning. His duffle bag was stuffed with enough rations for a four-day trip, his laser rifle buzzed in his hands, and the lantern hooked to one of his belt loops bumped against his thigh with every step.

Cutler himself was in his mid-twenties, which meant that Rachel was in her late twenties and Rebecca was in her early thirties. His parents would be pushing it, most people did not live past fifty on settlements. Rebecca had two sons with her husband, and Rachel was expecting her first child when Cutler was kidnapped. His nephews probably didn’t remember him and Rachel’s unborn child was still a mystery to him. Both of his sisters could have had more children since then. Maybe, one of them was named Johann in his honor instead of their grandfather’s. 

It would be weird for people to start calling him Johann again. Johann was a simple farm boy whose idea of risk was the swim out into the ocean before being dragged back to shore by his angry mother and a bag full of radaway pushed into his veins. Johann was a simple man who wanted to hold hands with his partner as they pursued the merchant stalls in Diamond City.

Cutler took a deep breath as he thought of Danse’s deep voice saying his given name. Danse was the only person he met post kidnapping who called him that. Danse could very well be the only person who saw the simple man where everyone else saw the Railroad agent. Then again, maybe Danse didn’t really know him at all. If Danse really knew him, he would have listened to the Diamond City dream. 

“Some time to reflect and regain confidence in the relationship,” Cutler scoffed as he trudged through the underbrush. Danse was ignoring the potential of his life to hide away in some safe house. He was waiting for someone to order him around. Cutler frowned, stopping in his tracks as his next thought hit him. Everything Cutler had done in the past three years was some form of instruction from Sam, Dez, Deacon, or Glory. Is that why Danse wouldn’t join HQ? Because the Railroad gave the same vague orders as the Institute in hopes of an endgame that no one was entirely sure of?

He had introduced himself to Sam as Johann. Instead of using that name, Sam chose to refer to him purely by his surname and insisted that everyone else in the Railroad did as well. It was dehumanizing, like the synths referred to by their binary.

Panic settled into his bones. The Railroad needed agents, no matter how secure Switchboard was. Cutler had started vocalizing his discontent and started actively spending time with someone on the outskirts of the organization. They must assume that Cutler was disloyal or a liability.

Deacon had offered to tell Desdemona that Cutler had died. Was Cutler on a list, ready to be taken out by an agent when he was far enough away to not have his death scare the tourists? Cutler pushed his back against a tree and peered out, past the light of his lantern, into the darkness surrounding him. His laser rifle pointed outward. Cutler needed to get home to Nordhagen before the Railroad looked for them there. Who’s to say that his family wouldn’t be manipulated into thinking that Cutler was a synth replacement. His heart hammered in his chest at the thought of a member of his family confusing him for a monster and pulling the trigger. Cutler’s eyes squeezed shut as tears fell down his cheeks. His shoulders shook, but his hands remained steady. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes before taking off in a sprint, willing to take the risk of alerting wasteland creatures to his presence as long as he made it to the beach in time. 

* * *

The sunset on the second day when Cutler passed the race track. Sweat plastered his curls to his forehead and his bag felt as though it was full of cement blocks. He pushed his feet ever forward as exhaustion weighed him down. The journey had been long, mostly because he had only stopped when he physically could not keep his eyes open.

Cutler hadn’t been this far east since he was kidnapped from the beach. Raiders had drunkenly wandered across their bridge and his parents had been too scared to retaliate, fearing it would attract the attention on the mutants at Fort Strong or the ferals in the airport. Cutler had been hit over the head with a tire iron and dragged off. He came to a few days later and was told he was in his last hours of life if his parents didn’t send caps. Then the Railroad passed through.

Sand crunched under his boats and when he reached the bridge a study voice called out into the night.

“We don’t want any trouble!”

Cutler blinked and tried to get his sluggish mind to put a name to the voice.

“My name is Johann Cutler.” He threw the rifle up over his shoulder to join the duffle bag. Cutler put his hands up. “I don’t want any trouble either.”

“Johann?” Bryan, Rebecca’s husband, stepped closer and Cutler could see him clearly in the lantern’s light. 

“I’m back,” Cutler whispered, his eyes growing heavier. “You can tell Becca that I’m back.”

Exhaustion finally got ahold of him and he collapsed to the ground. He saw Bryan start to run toward him before his eyes fell shut.

* * *

Cutler awoke to the sound of the ocean and the clatter of the windchimes. He was laying in the nice bed, the one with the frame that was inside the shack. The bed, as far as Cutler remembered, belonged to his parents and the two mattresses shoved onto the ground belonged to Rebecca and Bryan, and Rachel and Lukas. Cutler had slept in a bedroll outside with the boys and they only slept indoors if the weather was acting up.

It was evening, judging by the light coming through the small holes in the walls and flutter of the fabric acting as a door. Cutler eased himself out of bed and stepped outside. Three boys stopped chasing each other by the shoreline to stare at him. The older two, Cutler immediately recognized as Jacob and Daniel. The youngest, a toddler, looked at him curiously.

“Johann!” Rachel hopped over the garden fence with practiced ease. She grabbed her younger brother by the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a tight hug. “You took so long to wake up!” She mumbled, her short stature only reaching to the middle of his chest.

“Sorry,” Cutler rubbed her back gently. “Long trip.”

Rachel pulled back and bit her lip. “I thought you were dead.”

“I would have come back sooner,” Cutler said, “but things got complicated.”

Rachel shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now, what’s important is that you’re back.” She beckoned the boys over. “You guys remember Uncle Johann, right?”

Jacob grinned, and now that he had his aunt’s confirmation, the ten-year-old latched himself onto Cutler’s leg. Daniel, following the influence of his big brother, did the same with Cutler’s other leg.

Cutler rested his hands on the tops of both of their heads. “Is that your son?” He asked, nodding his head to the toddler.

Rachel smiled and lifted the boy up. “This is Elijah.”

The toddler hid his face in his mother’s neck. Cutler wasn’t all that surprised, it was rare for strangers to make it past the ferals, raiders, and mutants to get to their little corner of the world. Rebecca and Rachel only found husbands because they had traveled along with their father on the yearly trip into Bunker Hill.

“Johann!” Rebecca made her way across the dilapidated road. She let go of the rope she was using to pull a mirelurk carcass over to the cooking pit. Bryan and Lukus picked up her slack, giving her the moment with her brother she assumed possible only in dreams.

Jacob and Daniel stepped back, giving their mother room to pull Cutler into a hug. “I knew you’d come back.” Her head rested on his shoulder. “I didn’t doubt it for a single second.”

A stab of guilt pierced his heart and he was once again reminded how he hadn’t planned on coming back. “I’m sorry it took so long, Becca.”

“Where have you been?” She asked, pulling back to look into his eyes.

“It’s a long story,” Cutler ducked his head away. “I’ll tell you when the boys go to bed.”

Rebecca nodded and after a beat, she and Rachel shared a look.

“Johann,” Rachel said gently, handing Elijah to Lukas now that the men had joined the group. “Ma and Pa,” she trailed off.

Cutler bit his lip and nodded. He considered the possibility but hearing it out loud made his stomach drop. “When?”

“A few weeks after you were taken,” Rebecca said gently. “They were both sick and after the Minutemen came through and said they wouldn’t even bother looking for you, it was like they lost the will to fight. Ma went first and Pa went a few days later.”

“Right,” Cutler swallowed the lump in his throat. If he hadn’t joined the Railroad and he went home after being freed, his parents could very well be alive. “I’m so sorry.”

The three Cutler siblings hugged each other while Bryan and Lukas took the kids away to start dinner.

* * *

The five adults sat in the privacy of the shack, having made the boys sleep in the bedrolls for the night. Cutler sat on the mattress in worse condition, the one that used to belong to Rachel and Lukas. Apparently Rebecca and Bryan moved to the bed on the frame, Rachel and Lukas took the nicer one of the floor, and the three boys shared the one that was left. 

Cutler started his story from the moment he woke up in a prison cell a few blocks north of Bunkerhill. For a moment, he wanted to play it off as though the Railroad had forced him to become an agent so that his family would not trust them should they approach Nordhagen. Blatantly exaggerating stories reminded him too much of Deacon, so Cutler stuck to the truth. He powered through his sisters’ hurt expressions as he talked about the feeling of belonging at the Switchboard. Cutler explained the process in which he rescued synths and the work he did to help secure various safe houses across the Commonwealth. He talked about meeting Danse and how it was through Danse’s eyes and through his own words describing Danse, that he realized how manipulative the Railroad could be.

“I had to get back here,” Cutler finished, “to make sure you were all okay.” There was a brief pause in which time no one was entirely sure how to respond. “Do you think I’m being paranoid?”

Rebecca shook her head. “If this organization isn’t going to be upfront with its goals then I think you have a right to a bit of paranoia. We can only guess as to how the world would have turned out if people were more paranoid about their government two hundred years ago.”

Rachel disagreed. “There has to be some sort of secrecy, especially if the whole purpose of the operation is to keep its members discreet so they can be, essentially, smugglers. Don’t get me wrong, Johann, I’m so happy you’re back home, but I think you did good work while you were gone.”

“I’m not saying that I regret helping synths because I don’t,” Cutler said. “I’m just wondering if they would do something drastic to someone they thought was a loose end.”

“I don’t think you should help synths to begin with,” Lukas said evenly. “Nothing against them personally, but who’s to say that they won’t break down and start some sort of massacre? I had a great-uncle who died as a result of the Broken Mask.”

“An earlier malfunction of an Institute prototype is not a concrete model for how the modern synths behave,” Cutler said sharply. “That’s like saying we shouldn’t help any ghouls because they have the capability to go feral.”

Bryan nodded. “We’re all sorry for your uncle, Luke, but synths are people and I frankly don’t like the fact that we have to debate it.”

Rachel shook her head. “Synths aren’t people. We certainly shouldn’t be making more of them. It’s a mockery of human life.”

“A mockery of human life?” Rebecca laughed. “What’s so great about human life to assume that we’re better than everyone else?”

“Becca, we live, we breathe, we have emotions. Synths are manufactured, artificial, and you can’t teach a robot to love,” Rachel said. “Synths leaving the Institute means those eggheads have to split their resources to make more of them and to catch the ones that get out. It hurts the Institute to have runaways, so I think the synths getting help to escape is great, but the synths that escape are misprogrammed and I wouldn’t want them around my son.”

Cutler glared at his sister. “I didn’t remember you being so bigoted.”

“It’s called being protective,” Lukas said, wrapping his arm around his wife. “Where do we draw the line on what is life and what isn’t?”

“Sentience!” Bryan threw his hands up. “If you have the logical capabilities to differentiate yourself from a group and you have thoughts of your own then you are alive. You’re getting too hung up on the synths are people label. Who gives a shit if they’re people or not? The fact is that they are alive and are able to think thus, I think, they are subject to rights.”

Rachel and Lukas both scoffed and launched into a counterpoint.

Cutler got up from the mattress and headed outside. He reflexively grabbed his bag and rifle while he took his moment to breathe. Jacob and Daniel were having a hushed conversation while Elijah slept peacefully beside them. Both of Rebecca’s boys sat up as Cutler approached.

“Mama said I could have your bedroll,” Jacob told him excitedly, keeping his voice low as to not wake his cousin.

“Good thing too.” Cutler sat down in the sand. “I wasn’t getting much use out of it.” He set the duffle bag onto his lap and pulled out his own sleeping bag. “I got myself a new one anyway.”

“Did you join the Brotherhood?” Daniel asked. “Because we didn’t know where you were but I said it would be cool if you were in power armor lighting ferals on fire.” He made a whooshing sound and pretended to wave a flamer.

Cutler laughed. “No, Danny, Brotherhood’s a bit far south for casual enrollment.” 

Daniel shrugged. “When I’m Elder of the Brotherhood, I’ll let you join.”

“You’re not going to be Elder, stupid.” Jacob rolled his eyes. “You’re too far away to join and you aren’t even that good at shooting things.”

“Hey now,” Cutler said gently. “Don’t push too hard Jake, Elder Daniel Cutler will remember this when he’s older.” He gave his oldest nephew a wink to let him know that he was joking. Daniel grinned at the validation of his uncle’s words.

“Johann?” Jacob asked after a bit of comfortable silence. “Are you going to leave again?”

Cutler opened his mouth to say no, but he couldn’t. Was Glory right to say that Cutler needed a higher purpose? Even back home with his family, he finds himself restless and upset and ready to jump to the offensive. “I’m not planning on it.”

* * *

The week passed slowly compared to the frantic bustling of Railroad life. Conversations grew stale between a household of eight. Cutler found himself watching his mouth around Rachel and Lukas and Cutler realized there was very little he could actually say. Chores were completed quickly now that the work could be divided between another adult. There was a point where Cutler almost wished that one of their neighbors would attack just so he had an excuse to blow through some fusion cells.

Finally, at the end of the week, intruders tripped the wire on the bridge, rustling the tin can alert Cutler’s father had built however long ago. Bryan and Cutler crossed onto the bridge, taking aim at the shadows. “We don’t want any trouble!” Bryan called into the darkness as he had done before. Cutler’s finger twitched over the trigger on his laser rifle.

“Uranium Fever has gone and got me,” a voice sang. 

Cutler narrowed his eyes, knowing full well that this was the beginning of a Railroad identification. Why would they bother to identify themselves if they were going to get rid of him?

“A rocket sixty-nine,” Cutler sang back.

Two men emerged from the place where they had ducked between the old foundations. Blackbird led the way, his pipe pistol hanging loosely in the hand down at his side. Danse followed behind with a vacant expression.

Cutler held his laser rifle pointed at Blackbird’s head. “What are you doing here?”

Blackbird sighed. “Risking my neck, that’s what I’m doing. Boss was real pissed that you vanished into the night. She issued the order that Danse go through the Memory Den.”

“No,” Cutler lowered his rifle, looking again to Danse, who looked confused as to what was going on. 

“I didn’t sign up for this shit,” Blackbird said angrily. “I’m all about helping with freedom and there is nothing about that in the way Amari had to tie Danse to the chair while he begged to be let go.” He sighed. “Listen, Cutler, I can’t keep Danse in our safe house anymore, I fed Boss some story about Danse’s brain frying during treatment.”

“What do I do?” Cutler met them halfway across the bridge. Bryan fell behind him, his shotgun lowered.

“He got the survival package,” Blackbird explained. “Some vague memories of begging, digging for scraps, and such. It’s something that can fit into just about any backstory. I think we have another week or two before he starts holding onto memories, right now he goes through phases of awareness and phases of confusion. Amari said some of his personality will fight its way back and he’ll start to remember bits and pieces of his old life as long as he can find a way to logically connect it to his fake memories.”

Cutler nodded. “I’ll take care of him.”

Blackbird sighed. “You have to take him out of the Commonwealth. If someone sees him, we’re both going down. I like Danse, but I don’t abandon the Commonwealth and hide from the Railroad like Danse.”

“I’ll keep him here with us,” Cutler said. “Raiders to the north, mutants to the south, ferals to the west, and ocean to the east.”

“I got here, didn’t I?” Blackbird pointed out. “HQ depended on you to keep Danse in line and report whether or not he was purposely released from the Institute to spy on us, and when you vanished, Boss forced the memory bullshit. If Boss is willing to go that far, I’d bet that she would storm the whole area to make sure Danse wasn’t lying low. Sorry Cutler, either you take him with you somewhere else, or I have to kill him.”

“I thought you just said that you wouldn’t tolerate what they were doing to him!”

Blackbird shook his head. “I’m doing the best I can do.”

Cutler bit his lip and looked at Danse. The man had been turning his head between Cutler and Blackbird during the entire conversation. 

Bryan put his hand on Cutler’s shoulder. “We’ll sort this mess out,” he said to Blackbird. “You have my word.”

Blackbird looked at the three of them hesitantly before turning back the way he came.

“Danse?” Cutler approached him hesitantly. “Do you know who I am?”

Recognition passed through Danse’s eyes and it appeared to take him a few seconds to focus. “I’m sorry I berated you about our relationship, Johann.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Danse’s hand twitched in some sort of recognition. Cutler reached out and grabbed it. The larger man interlaced their fingers.

“This is my brother-in-law,” Cutler said, nodding his head over his shoulder, “Bryan.”

Bryan waved his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Danse’s eyebrows scrunched together before he forced a polite smile. His brown eyes looked down to his and Cutler’s hands and he pulled away. “I’m Danse,” he said, addressing them both.

* * *

Once again, the five adults in the Cutler family found themselves in the shack with the boys outside. Jacob and Daniel had been excited to meet someone new, and because Cutler had vouched for him, Rebecca and Bryan were okay with Danse entertaining the children while they talked.

Rachel hadn’t been happy about Danse, so she held Elijah close to her chest rather than have him out of her sight. 

“He needs to leave, Johann,” Lukas said.

“His mind is too fragile for him to travel by himself,” Cutler sighed. “I have to go with him.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Rachel said angrily. “That thing is going to do nothing but cause trouble. The only course of action is to go out there and put that machine down.”

“We aren’t murderers!” Rebecca interrupted.

“It’s no different than shooting down a feral or a mutant,” Lukas said. “We’re a family out here and anything that comes between us and safety is getting a bullet in its brain.”

“If Danse dies, I leave.” Cutler crossed his arms. “I’m going with him because, as Luke said, I can’t let anything dangerous come close to the four of you or the boys.”

“Johann,” Rebecca reached her hand out and took her brother’s hand. “We will turn this beach into a fucking fortress to keep you safe. Danse too.”

“I don’t want to hurt the Railroad,” Cutler softly confessed. “What they’ve done to Danse is horrible, but it’s all for the greater good. I want them to come here, see that Danse and I aren’t here, and then have that be that.”

“So leave for a bit and come back,” Bryan suggested. “Head north and camp out in Bravo or Theta.”

“Help your ‘friend’ find a settlement then come back,” Rachel said, accepting the fact that her brother wasn’t going to allow Danse to be harmed.

“They’ll keep coming back.” Cutler squeezed Rebecca’s hand as he said the words. “Nordhagen will become part of the patrol.”

“So we’ll leave,” Rebecca said authoritatively. “All of us, we’ll get some brahmin, sell what we can, and travel somewhere where Johann and Danse can be safe.”

“You’re insane!” Rachel gasped. “This is our home, Becca! We can’t just leave! Think about your boys, they haven’t known anywhere else.”

Rebecca put her free hand on her sister’s shoulder. “The boys will adapt, it’s you and me who haven’t known anywhere else.”

Bryan bit his lip nervously. “Becca, we have to wait for the crop to grow in.” Lukas nodded along with Bryan.

“It’s impulsive, Becca,” Cutler agreed. “Ma and Pa are here and Rachel is right, this is home.”

“You can’t just leave!” Rebecca said angrily, tears clouding in her eyes. “We only just got you back and I can’t lose you again!”

“I can’t be responsible for anything bad happening to you.” Cutler pulled her into a hug. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Rebecca buried her face in Cutler’s neck as she cried. Rachel shuffled over slowly, keeping her sleeping son balanced in her arms. Rebecca and Cutler pulled her into the hug and Bryan and Lukas wrapped their arms around all three of them.

* * *

Cutler held his laser rifle in his left hand and used his right to hold on tightly to Danse’s hand. Danse had the duffle bag over his shoulder and as dawn broke on the horizon, the two set out. Cutler could feel the eyes of his family on his back as he crossed the bridge, but he kept his eyes ahead and promised himself that he would not look back.


	2. Chapter Two: The Capital Wasteland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rivet City to a few months past enlistment in the Brotherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be Rivet City to the FEV incident, but the story got away from me just a bit.

Cutler stretched his arms up over his head and let out a yawn as he walked through the hallways of Rivet City. Danse was more of a morning person than Cutler ever was, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his boyfriend had already arrived at their junk stand to set up for the day. He passed familiar faces and let the feeling of content settle in his stomach. Every morning he had to remind himself that there was no need to be on edge. Rivet City was well defended and as long as he and Danse pulled in caps, they would rest easy for the rest of their lives.

As he predicted, Danse stood behind the counter of their junk stand and seemed to be in the process of disassembling a desk fan. Cutler approached and rested his forearms against the counter. “Goodmorning, Saul.”

Danse smiled but kept focused on his task. “Goodmorning, Johann.”

Cutler propped up his elbow and rested his chin in his hand as he watched Danse work. There was something to be said about the man’s precise movements and deep concentration. This was the skill that Danse had been made to do, and he did it well. When he and Cutler had first left Massachusetts, the confused man would get anxious and distraught without something to do, so Cutler had filled the duffle bag with whatever miscellaneous junk he could find and let Danse tinker with it while the two rested.

“If you’re finished staring at me,” Danse said teasingly, “you could go mark prices.”

Cutler shook his head fondly. “Actually, I don’t think I’m done staring at you.”

“Johann.” Danse’s face turned red. “The market’s about to open.”

Cutler laughed and met Danse behind the counter, he pulled out the clipboard and went through their inventory while Danse sorted the components he had gotten out of the fan. They worked shoulder to shoulder, their preferred method after they realized that Danse was right-handed and Cutler was left-handed. 

The Diamond City dream was everything Cutler had imagined and more. He woke up every morning in the bed he shared with Danse. Some days he’d wake up at the same time as Danse and the two would go through an exercise routine before eating their breakfast, other days, Cutler would sleep in and wake up to Danse kissing his forehead as he headed out to work on some tinkering. The two would spend the day at the junk stand, selling off whatever scrap they found in the Wasteland on the weekend and whatever mods Danse had crafted in his free time. They would get lunch and dinner from Gary’s and loiter around the bar before heading back to the room they secured for themselves. Cutler was collecting books and holotapes, he would curl up in a chair and read while Danse spread all of his tools on the table and tinkered. Eventually, they would settle in for bed, sometimes that meant having sex, other times it meant just talking to each other. Cutler’s favorite nights were the nights where they did both. They would fall asleep, Danse spooning Cutler, and awake the next day to repeat the cycle. 

Their morning passed in relative ease, their junk stand gained quite a bit of popularity and it wasn’t too uncommon to hear people come to Rivet City just for ‘one of Saul’s mods’. Cutler had initially been surprised that the name Saul caught on so quickly. He offered the name in a list to Danse as the other man was slowly solidifying memories. Cutler wasn’t entirely sure anymore if Danse recalled picking the name, he hadn’t mentioned anything about the Commonwealth or his identity as a synth in a while, even when Cutler tried to direct conversations that way. Some part of him wondered if he should bring it up, but a larger part of himself reasoned that the likelihood of it becoming relevant was so low, that it wasn’t worth the distress it would put him under. Danse didn’t like lying, he said so before their first date to Diamond City, and Cutler was going to be damned if he made Danse feel uncomfortable. Danse may be too noble for lies and misdirection, but Cutler certainly wasn’t.

* * *

“You’re not going to scrap my laser rifle,” Cutler said, aghast as the two sat across from each other at Gary’s for lunch.

“I will make a more efficient one, Johann,” Danse said. “I need some of the fiberglass and I don’t think a shipment will come through before the end of the week.”

“It’s sentimental.” Cutler took a bite of his food and tried to ignore Danse’s look.

“I don’t understand sentimentality as you do. When I was younger, we salvaged what we could and didn’t think twice.”

Cutler sighed, he was never really sure how to respond when Danse brought up his loosely constructed fictional childhood. “Regardless, if you need fiberglass so badly, I’ll go out and find some for you.”

“It’s not the weekend,” Danse pointed out. “One of us has to man the junk stand.”

“You man the stand, I’ll go scrapping,” Cutler said. “I have loads of experience traveling on my own, Saul. There’s no need to worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you.” Danse reached across the table and took Cutler’s hand. “I can’t help it.”

“You’re a sap.” Cutler smiled at him.

Danse’s face flushed, even after the months since they resumed their relationship. Cutler wondered if Danse would still be blushing when they were old men. Did synths age? Danse looked to be in his mid-thirties. As a contingency plan, Cutler had told Danse that he preferred his partner with a clean-shaven face. In a few years, Cutler would ask him to grow his beard out so there would be some outward element of change just in case the other man wouldn’t grow old. It was a shame really, Cutler liked Danse’s facial hair even if it wasn’t as thick and quick growing as his own.

“You’re a sap too, Johann,” Danse responded, “kissing me like that in the middle of a bar.”

It was Cutler’s turn to blush. When they had arrived at Rivet City, Cutler had taken Danse to The Muddy Rudder and did his best to recreate their first kiss in Diamond City. That was the day he and, newly cemented, Danse became a couple.

Cutler tried to play it off cool, he shrugged his shoulders. “I Saul you, Danse.”

Danse rolled his eyes. “Stop making that joke.”

Cutler laughed. “Come on, let’s get back to work.”

* * *

Danse’s breathing against his neck kept him grounded when nightmares clawed relentlessly at his mind. Cutler squeezed his eyes shut and forced his body to release the tension from his back. Danse subconsciously pulled him closer and Cutler let himself sink into Danse’s embrace. His heart was racing and he was in a state of extreme claustrophobia and another state of terror if he were to leave Danse’s arms. 

The rapid beating of his heart and the staggered breaths must have woke Danse up because Cutler could feel him loosen the embrace. Danse kissed the back of his neck. “You can breathe, Johann,” Danse whispered against his clammy skin. “It’s okay.”

A sob ripped its way through Cutler’s throat and his chest lurched as he curled in on himself. Danse sat up in the bed and moved off to the side to give Cutler space. He stayed close, knowing from experience what Cutler needed while in this state.

Minutes ticked by as Cutler cried, trying several times to stifle himself so Danse could lay back down and go to bed, but all that did was start the fit over again and steal more breath from his lungs. Eventually, the panic loosened, but Cutler’s emotions still ran high. He carefully stretched his limbs out of the fetal position and blindly reached his hand back for Danse.

Danse took his hand and climbed back under the covers. Cutler rolled over to face him and buried his head in Danse’s chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” Danse asked, running his fingers through Cutler’s long hair.

Cutler shook his head, wrapping his arms around Danse’s abdomen. He pressed his ear to Danse’s sternum and listened to the steady beating of his heart. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I’d rather be awake to help you than sleep through it,” Danse reminded him.

They always had the same conversation after Cutler’s panic attacks and it had become some sort of ritual. The last bit always seemed to push away the last bits of fear and let them both fall into a more comfortable sleep.

“I love you, Saul.”

“I love you too, Johann.”

* * *

Cutler climbed through the ruins of old buildings, his duffle bag strapped over his back and his laser rifle buzzing in his hands. Danse was manning the junk stand while Cutler scuttled about looking for fiberglass. Being in the Wasteland relieved the tension that the comfortable confines of Rivet City could not. Cutler hated being in compact spaces and the dilapidated walls of pre-war buildings provided a large field of work within. Sometimes, because scavenging was boring, especially without Danse, Cutler would pretend like he was a vault dweller discovering scrap for the first time. He’d toss objects between his hands and try to contemplate what the pre-war function of it was.

In an abandoned outlet mall, Cutler was able to find several boxes of abraxo underneath some collapsed shelves. He placed them into the duffle bag and sat for a moment, thinking of what else they needed. Some soap would be nice, Cutler had been keeping his hair in a loose bun to hide some of the grime that had gotten into it. Danse hadn’t made any complaints about it, but Cutler knew the pencils Danse sketched ideas with were getting annoyingly small. Maybe he could find some boxes of Fancy Lads, Cutler lost an appetite for them, they reminded him too much of the Commonwealth, but Danse still loved them.

A rhythmic thumping echoing outside alerted Cutler to the presence of power armor. Judging by the amount of sound, Cutler assumed there were at least three people. He threw his bag back over his shoulder and held his laser rifle forward as he crept close to the empty frame where the glass window used to be. A squadron from the Brotherhood of Steel was making their way through, probably on their way to the next mutant hive.

Cutler wasn’t sure how to feel about the Brotherhood of Steel. Organizations as a whole frightened him, and he wished he could talk to Danse about it. Paranoia still weighed heavily on him and Cutler honestly did not know if it was justified or not. The Railroad did not have the resources to send a group of agents to the Capital Wasteland, and even if they did, it was unlikely that they would be able to get to him in Rivet City. Somehow, those thoughts made it worse, because if he was untouchable in Rivet City then he had no justification to not send word back to the Commonwealth, to his family, to let them know that he was okay.

Cutler rolled his shoulders and soothed his breathing, now was not a good time to get caught up in those thoughts. Once the soldiers passed, Cutler moved on to collect more scrap.

* * *

By the time Cutler returned back to Rivet City, the marketplace had closed for the night. Cutler munched on potato crisps, having long since missed dinner. The city had a calmness to it at night and without the bustle of people, Cutler could hear the quiet rhythmic sound of the waves. Cutler stopped outside of his and Danse’s home and pulled out the six loose pencils he could find. Two of them even had erasers. He also pulled out the two boxes of Fancy Lads. The first one, he had found in an abandoned cellar, the second he bargained for using the items he couldn’t carry all the way back to the city. The now-empty can of potato crisps went into the bag and Cutler unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Their living quarters were quite small. There was no need to have a larger space, especially if they wanted to save the most caps possible. It was a room that the two of them sorted into fourths. The left side of the room closest to the door was their kitchenette, armed with a refrigerator, a stove, a sink, and a couple of counters with built-in cabinets. Danse had installed them himself. The right side closest to the door was their living room space. They had a couch, Cutler’s favorite chair, a bookshelf, and a radio. Danse had moved the large table from kitchen over into the living room quarter so he had a spot to sit and work on mods while being in the same space as Cutler when he settled in to read. On the far left, they had curtains hanging around their bathroom space. It had a simple toilet, sink, and shower. The far right hosted their queen-sized bed and their shared dresser.

Danse sat at his table, in the middle of making some sort of mod. He looked frazzled, and he had knicks on his chin from where he had apparently freshly shaved his beard. Danse hated shaving and usually only got his hair cut when Cutler offered to shave it for him. When he saw Cutler come in, Danse stood quickly and pulled his boyfriend into a tight hug.

“You’re late,” Danse said, pressing a kiss to Cutler’s cheek to take any frustration out of the statement.

“Late?” Cutler awkwardly embraced Danse, keeping the pencils balanced on the snack cakes as Danse pressed another kiss to his cheek. “I wasn’t aware that I had a curfew.”

“I thought you’d be back when the market closed.” Danse stepped back and looked at Cutler. He was doing his tame mongrel eyes and his bottom lip poked out ever so slightly in the closest Danse would ever get to an actual pout.

“I wandered out a bit far, but it was worth it.” He presented the pencils and the snack cakes to Danse.

“Did you get these for me?” Danse asked, taking them carefully into his hands.

“Of course I did.” Cutler smiled at him and moved over to Danse’s table to set his bag down. “I got you a bunch of abraxo, you can probably get a good amount of fiberglass out of it.”

Danse joined him at the table and set the pencils down with his building materials. He opened the first box of snack cakes and hummed his approval through his first bite.

Cutler sorted through the other scrap he had scrounged up and went about cleaning up some of the mess Danse had made while tinkering. Danse only seemed to be capable of cleaning when Cutler was watching him. The room at the Railroad safehouse was probably only kept clean because Danse was hyper-aware of the space not necessarily being his.

“I’ll clean that up,” Danse said, setting the full and the half-eaten boxes of snack cakes on the kitchenette counter.

Cutler shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, I need to keep moving.”

Danse gave him a concerned look and Cutler tensed under his boyfriend’s gaze.

“Did you have another panic attack?” Danse asked softly. If he wasn’t there to help calm Cutler down, then Cutler would spend hours pacing, waiting for his emotions to settle back down. It was a reasonable explanation as to why he had willingly been out in the Wastes all day.

“Why is that always your first guess?” Cutler snapped.

Danse’s eyes widened in surprise. Cutler’s shoulders sagged, he hadn’t meant to do that. He hadn’t even been feeling angry until just now.

“Sorry,” Cutler mumbled. “I think I just need a minute.” Grabbing the soap he found, Cutler headed toward the bathroom. He walked straight into Danse’s arm. Cutler scowled at him. “Saul, I’m serious. I need a minute.”

“You’ve been growing distant lately,” Danse said sadly, keeping his arm out in front of Cutler, “and I’m wondering if it’s my fault.”

Cutler bit his lip and tried to explain what he was feeling. Everything that was bothering him wasn’t Danse’s fault. Yet, if it wasn’t for Danse, Cutler would still have a hand in bettering the world with his work in the Railroad, or he would be on the beach with his sisters, brother-in-laws, and nephews. If it wasn’t for Danse, Cutler wouldn’t be having nightmares of his sisters confusing him for a synth replacement and Rachel panicking and pulling the trigger as his nephews screamed in terror. Rebecca would sob, Lukas and Bryan would there stand in shock, and Cutler would call out to them from outside the scene, feeling each of their individual grief at once in a frequency so painful, he would think that he was dying all over again.

Danse couldn’t know any of that. There was no changing the past, and Danse did not deserve to carry the burdens of the memories forcefully taken from him. Cutler looked into Danse’s sad amber eyes and wished his panic was manifesting itself in the physical sense just so they could go through their routine.

“I want to go home,” Cutler eventually said, whether that was in reference to the Railroad, Nordhagen, or the calmness from before, he wasn’t sure. Tears flooded his eyes. “I want to go home, Saul.”

“Johann,” Danse said softly, looking completely lost. Whatever words Danse tried to summon to help comfort him, were forgotten when Cutler threw himself against Danse’s chest and sobbed onto his shoulder.

Sometimes, Cutler would think about how unfair he was being to Danse. He was constantly in some state of mind and it wasn’t uncommon for his mood to change at the flip of a cap. Danse, ever the hero that he was, adapted, but Cutler felt his heart grow heavy with guilt as Danse slowly rubbed his back. Danse deserved better, but the fact of the matter was that no one was ever going to protect and love Danse the way Cutler did after they found out the truth.

“I’m trying,” Cutler eventually mumbled against Danse’s neck. “Damn it, Danse, I’m trying so hard not to be like this anymore.”

“Talk to me,” Danse held him closer. “Please Johann, I can’t keep watching you suffer without providing help.”

“You are helping!” Cutler stepped back to look Danse in the eyes. He rested one palm flat against Danse’s cheek. “Saul, it’s complicated and I don’t know how to get into it. But you, being here, and loving me regardless, it’s keeping me together.”

Danse’s eyebrows knitted together. “You need help beyond that, Johann.” He rested his hand over the one Cutler had on his cheek. “I can help comfort you, but I can’t help you get to the source of the problem unless you let me in.”

Cutler sighed. “I can’t, and you need to accept that.”

“No,” Danse’s voice was stern and it caught Cutler off guard. “I will never stand by and watch your suffering.”

Cutler pulled his hand away. “I’m not suffering, I’m struggling, there’s a difference. A difference that you need to respect.”

He and Danse shared a long look before Danse eventually turned his head. Cutler headed off to take a shower.

* * *

Cutler’s panic attacks used to happen about twice a week. After his conversation with Danse, he was having panic attacks almost every night. Sleep became too daunting and Cutler spent long nights staring at the wall or pacing the living room. Danse had tried coaxing him back to bed, but after Cutler snapped at him again, Danse stopped pestering him.

Maintaining the junk stand was more difficult than ever before. Cutler was too tired to properly carry his weight, and Danse was stressing himself out to cover Cutler’s slack. The bags growing heavier under Danse’s eyes made Cutler feel guilty and thus more upset.

Two long weeks since their last real conversation, Cutler paced the living room and tried to calm his thoughts down. He kept imagining Danse crossing the bridge to Nordhagen with a crazed look in his eyes. The reprogramming the Railroad had done made Danse a monster and the man Cutler loved raised a gun to his family. Cutler would try to stand between them, but he would be too far away. They would shoot at each other and by the time Cutler got to them, they would all be dead. Cutler would fall to his knees next to Jacob and Daniel and get swallowed by the hollow lifeless looks in their eyes.

“Johann.”

Cutler snapped his head over to the bedroom. Danse was sitting up in the bed and was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He lamely patted Cutler’s empty spot on the bed after a moment.

“Go away,” Cutler sighed. Danse needed sleep and Cutler didn’t want to be responsible for Danse’s exhaustion.

“This isn’t working,” Danse said sadly. He stood up out of bed and blinked a few times before coming completely awake. His arms crossed across his chest. “We can’t keep going on like this.”

“Are you breaking up with me again?”

“Again?” Danse asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Cutler bit his lip and mimicked Danse’s closed off pose. Danse dismissed the comment, most likely chalking it up to one of Cutler’s nightmares. “Something needs to change because I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

“You don’t think I’m trying to change?” Cutler asked defensively.

“I’m not trying to start an argument with you!” Danse said, cutting off whatever rant Cutler was about to delve into. “Goddamnit Johann, I want to help you!”

“You can help me by going back to bed, Saul. Let me figure this out. As long as you take care of yourself, I’ll be okay.”

“That is exactly what we have been doing, and clearly it isn’t having positive results for either one of us.”

“I can’t tell you!” Cutler threw his hands up. “There’s nothing you can do. If you want to carry the burden then be my guest. Don’t expect anything to change, all you’re going to do is make yourself feel like shit.”

“I already feel that way!” Danse took a step closer to Cutler but kept his arms crossed. “I can’t sleep without you, I’m barely keeping caps coming in by myself, and you’re pulling away. Things couldn’t get much worse, Johann.” Danse took a shuddering breath. “I’m miserable.”

“You’re miserable?” Cutler asked quietly. “Is it because of me?”

“No? Maybe?” Danse ran his fingers through his own hair. “I know you’re not doing this on purpose and I know that you’re trying to look out for me, but it’s not enough.”

Cutler’s knees shook. “Saul, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not just whatever is making you upset,” Danse continued, almost as if the floodgates had been broken. “I feel like we’re going nowhere. I don’t want to be a junk vendor. What comes next, Johann?”

“You want to be a part of something,” Cutler said numbly, remembering the conversation they had months ago in the safehouse, “you want the honor that comes with upholding values bigger than yourself.”

“Yes,” Danse said with a sigh of relief. “That’s it exactly.”

Cutler swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are you going to try to get on the city council or something?”

“Actually,” Danse said slowly, “a few members of the Brotherhood of Steel came through the market the other day. Our stand has a reputation and they gave an enlistment option.”

Cutler wasn’t sure how to respond. Panic tugged on him, but he tried his best not to let it overtake him, now was Danse’s moment to be vulnerable. “What did you say?”

“I said I would think about it.”

“Well,” Cutler hugged himself tighter, “did you think about it?”

“I would say that I’m strongly considering it.” Danse got a faraway look in his eyes. “Think about it, Johann. We wouldn’t have to worry about caps, we’d have protection, we’d have a group of people to support us. The Brotherhood is impressed by my modifications, so most likely, they would give me the materials I needed to keep working and make me a scribe. You are a walking encyclopedia on Wasteland survival and you’re one hell of a sniper, it wouldn’t take you too long to become a knight. We would become servants to the people, working to improve life and preserve technology.”

Cutler looked at Danse’s face, this was the first time in a long while that he’d seen Danse look hopeful. “Saul,” Cutler started to say before faltering. Danse was right when he said things couldn’t get much worse. His nightmares and panic attacks were not going to get better in Rivet City no matter how badly he wanted them to. Glory had been right when she said Cutler loathed to lived without purpose. He felt the longing on the beach, he felt the longing on the road south, he felt the longing while working the stand, and he felt the longing now, looking at his partner. If the Brotherhood didn’t work out, they could run away again. Third time's the charm.

“Let me have a chance to think about it,” Cutler eventually settled on saying. He stepped closer to Danse and took both of his hands into his own. “Thank you for talking to me about this,” he said quietly.

“Thank you for listening.” Danse gave him a smile and leaned in for a kiss.

Cutler closed his eyes and let himself indulge in the familiar press of Danse’s lips against his own. He let go of Danse’s hands and settled his hands on his boyfriend’s hips as he pushed his tongue past the other man’s lips.

* * *

“You!”

Cutler looked up from the counter at the junk stand. Danse was talking to a customer about personal modifications and Cutler stood behind the counter. A young woman wearing the orange Brotherhood flight suit pressed both of her palms on the counter. 

“The Paladin has been trying to get a hold of you, but you’ve been gone!”

Cutler shrugged. “It’s been a weird couple of weeks.”

“Listen,” the knight said, waving him off, “you and your buddy here have a grand reputation with the Brotherhood. Ingram saw one of your buddy’s modifications and she almost cried. Do you know how hard it is to impress Ingram?”

Cutler frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Krieg wants you two to join the Brotherhood, and Krieg never wants anyone to join the Brotherhood.”

“Who are you?” Cutler asked.

“Right, sorry,” she laughed. “I’m Knight Regina Lexi. Call me Knight, call me Reggie, call me Lexi.”

“Johann Cutler.” He stuck his hand out to shake hers. “Call me Johann, call me Cutler.”

She shook his hand enthusiastically. “So, mod-man over there said he’s gotta ask you before enlisting, and we really want you guys, so enlist.”

“Uh,” Cutler stalled. Lexi was reaching an energy that Cutler could not match, even when he wasn’t in his current psychological state.

“Reg, leave him alone,” a more serious man, also in the Brotherhood flight suit, stepped beside her. The two were a rather comical sight. Lexi was tall and strong for a woman, her hair chopped haphazardly as though the only intention was to get the wispy red locks out of her eyes. She had thick-framed glasses with tape connecting the two sides over the bridge of her nose. The man was rather short and his face was round, almost as if he still had baby fat despite being a man in his early thirties. His head was shaved and his voice sounded too deep to be coming from his mouth.

“Knight Paul Jaxston,” he introduced himself, reaching out to shake Cutler’s hand in a much calmer manner than his partner. “Call me PJ.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Cutler asked hesitantly, still not entirely sure what Lexi was trying to communicate past enlisting.

“Our Paladin, Paladin Krieg, has seen you and your friend out on the Wastes scavenging and he’s impressed with the ease in which you operate. You especially. So we investigated further, asked around a bit, and finally decided to stop by. Rumor had it that you two had quite the gig going on here, and one of our best proctors was extremely impressed with your friend’s abilities. So, we’d like for the two of you to report to the Citadel and take your first steps in joining the Brotherhood. The mutants are becoming stronger, and we need to protect the people.”

Cutler shifted in his boots. The Brotherhood and the Railroad had plenty in common, but Cutler wasn’t entirely sure where the Brotherhood stood on the synth issue. Danse could be in danger if they enlisted and the Brotherhood decided synths needed to be destroyed. Cutler looked over his shoulder at Danse. The man was still talking to a customer about modifications. His hands moved adamantly over the weapon as he explained his ideas.

Why couldn’t the two of them be happy in Rivet City? Their lives wouldn’t be at risk and they could experience comfort closest to the world before the war.

Lexi cleared her throat and Cutler turned back to the two Brotherhood soldiers. “I need to think about it too, I appreciate the offer.”

Jaxston elbowed Lexi in the side before she could open her mouth to say anything. “Thanks for your consideration, we’ll be making the rounds again in about a week, hopefully, you’ll join us on the way back,” he said before the two departed in the marketplace crowd.

* * *

Cutler had his legs thrown over the side of his chair as he flicked through a comic. Too many pages were missing for Cutler to actually understand the plot, but the drawings were in a style he hadn’t seen very often. When Danse walked in, Cutler hummed his acknowledgment as he carefully turned a charred page.

Danse knelt down on the ground next to the chair and Cutler reached his hand out to slowly run his fingers through his boyfriend’s soft hair. Danse smiled softly and the two looked at the comic together in companionable silence.

“I saw you talking to the Brotherhood,” Danse said as Cutler set the finished comic aside.

“I’d hope you did,” Cutler said with a laugh, shifting his body in the chair to face Danse better. “You were standing right there.”

Danse rolled his eyes. Cutler found himself smiling, Danse’s hair always stuck straight up when Cutler played with it. His face was serious, but his hair looked like the mad scientist from the comic. “What did they want to talk to you about?” Danse asked.

“It was probably the same spiel they gave you. Some Paladin has seen us around and has heard your reputation.”

“What did you say, Johann?”

“I said we would consider it, and they said they’d be back in a week and they’d like for us to go with them next time.”

“Do you want to enlist?” Danse asked. There was a look in Danse’s eyes that Cutler couldn’t place. It was somewhere between certainty and determination with a slight mix of confusion. Danse was programmed to be a part of something and Cutler didn’t have the right to deny him on the basis of generalized anxiety.

“Yeah,” Cutler said. The sound of his own voice was a surprise to him even though he had made a decision. “Yeah, Saul, if you enlist, I’ll enlist with you.”

Danse grinned and cupped Cutler’s face to give him a kiss.

* * *

Cutler and Danse walked shoulder to shoulder as they followed the two Brotherhood knights out of Rivet City. It had been surprisingly tearful to clear out the junk stand and hand away the keys to their room, but as they made the trek toward the Citadel, Cutler felt as though he could breathe again.

“You’ll like Krieg,” Lexi was telling them. “He’s a good man and it is an honor to serve under him.”

“Are you sure we’ll be assigned to your squadron?” Danse asked. “Is there going to be an assessment of our abilities?”

“There’ll be an assessment, but Paladin Krieg is very,” Jaxston waved his hand as he tried to think of the word, “he’s not xenophobic necessarily, but he thinks only the best of the best deserve to have positions of power. He wants the Brotherhood to remain small and preserve its natural bloodlines, but he also has an eye for talent. If he’s willing to acknowledge that you two would be worthy assets, that’s as good as him requesting you to serve under him.”

“We’re a pretty small team,” Lexi picked up. “It’s me, PJ, and Angelica. So that’s two knights and a wannabe lancer. Krieg’s been looking for a good scribe and another knight and it was like Atom himself plopped you two down as Krieg’s Christmas present.”

Danse asked more questions about the Brotherhood while Cutler let his thoughts drift away. The explanations of organizations and the personal escort across hostile land reminded him of Deacon. Sure Deacon exaggerated a lot and Cutler’s wasn’t sure if he could trust him, he still missed the other man. Deacon had been his first friend outside of his family and the two had made a pretty good team.

* * *

Paladin Krieg, like his two knights, looked nothing like how Cutler pictured a Brotherhood soldier to look. He was short and plump and looked more grandfatherly than commanding. A thick silver mustache covered his mouth and his gray eyes seemed to be in a permanent state of a wide-eyed stare. Like Jaxston, his voice was deeper than Cutler felt it should have been. It practically echoed through the room as Danse and Cutler introduced themselves to their new commanding officer.

“Did the Knights give you an introduction to the Brotherhood ideals?” Paladin Krieg asked them, his arms bent behind his back with his feet spread to be in line with his shoulders. Danse mimicked the pose while Cutler fiddled with the duffle bag strap across his chest.

“Yes, Sir,” Danse answered for both of them. “The ideologies of the Brotherhood align closely with our own and we would be honored to be accepted into your ranks.”

The corner of Krieg’s mouth twitched in a slight smile before returning back to a neutral state. “I’ve spoken to Elder Lyons about the two of you and he’s given me permission to accept you both into my squadron. Welcome to the Brotherhood, Knight Cutler and Scribe Danse, may you serve us well.”

Paladin Krieg did the standard Brotherhood salute, which Danse and Cutler quickly replicated.

“Ad Victoriam, Brothers.”

* * *

Cutler laid in his bunk for the first time and frowned up at the ceiling. They had yet to meet the sixth member of their squadron, but otherwise, Cutler felt as though he had a pretty good idea as to what was going to happen in the Brotherhood. They’d been given a basic tour of the Citadel, briefly passed by the Elder while he worked, chatted a bit more with Lexi and Jaxston, ate some decent food, and now they were to rest before training in the morning. Cutler rolled to his side and looked over at Danse, who was laying a few beds away from him. Danse was already looking back at him. Cutler shifted to the side of the small bed and raised the blanket in a silent invitation to cuddle. Danse’s eyes glanced around to the other soldiers. Most of them were asleep, but a few were awake and having whispered conversations. He looked back at Cutler and shook his head.

“Please?” Cutler mouthed. He hadn’t not shared a bed with Danse since they left the Commonwealth. The last thing he wanted was to have a panic attack in front of the Brotherhood of Steel.

“We can’t,” Danse mouthed back. At Cutler’s defeated look, Danse mouthed something else. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Cutler sighed and moved back to the middle of his bed. He threw the blankets up over his head and tried to fall asleep.

* * *

“The bailey is practically our home,” Jaxston said over breakfast. “Krieg likes us in tip-top shape so expect to be training day round. If you two want to impress, you’ll want to show that you’re dedicated and not some trigger happy idiots.”

Cutler scowled and poked at his food. He had been too nervous about a panic attack to actually fall asleep for any measurable amount of time.

Danse sat next to him, his hand discreetly squeezing Cutler’s hand under the table. It was another benefit of the right-handed and left-handed situation they had. “What do these training sessions involve?” Danse asked in a tone that was way too chipper. Danse, the early bird that he was, probably already had his body lose from morning exercises.

“Loads of stuff, we’re going to get every part of your chiseled body into shape, Danser,” Lexi said. She was sporting a full grin and Cutler quickly made the assessment that she too was an early bird.

“Why does Saul have to do our training?” Cutler asked. “Shouldn’t he be with the scribes?”

Jaxston took a long drink of his coffee before answering. “Because, Danse, Krieg wants to sponsor you as a field scribe. You’d gather all the tech that the scribes back here would be interested in and you can help us navigate tech while we’re out and about.”

“A knight with a different title,” Danse concluded.

“Exactly,” Jaxston said with his own smile. Cutler felt some relief, the smile was forced so he and Jaxston could befriend each other by hate the morning together.

The four of them made their way out to the bailey as the sun rose over the Citadel. Cutler rolled his shoulders to loosen them as they approached Paladin Krieg and a young woman in an orange flight suit. The woman’s height was somewhere between that of Jaxston and Lexi. Her blonde hair was braided over her shoulder and she gave them a lazy wave as they approached.

Krieg cleared his throat. “Alright team, if you want to make it to lunch on time, you’ll get your asses moving. Lexi, you take Danse and show him the routine. Olwen,” Krieg turned to the blonde woman, “you take Cutler. Jaxston, you just try to keep up with yourself.”

Olwen nodded her head for Cutler to follow her lead as she started jogging along the far wall of the bailey. Danse and Lexi were working on the climbing ropes.

“I’m Knight Angelica Olwen,” she said to him as they set a steady pace. “When we get more mobilized, I’m going to fly a fucking vertibird.”

“I’m Johann Cutler,” Cutler said, “and I’ll do whatever I’m told. I guess.”

“You’re no fun,” Olwen bumped her shoulder against his. “Get some goals, new kid.”

Cutler suppressed a sigh and turned his focus to the pounding of his own feet against the pavement. He was not looking forward to starting a new routine with a new set of life goals to eventually abandon.

* * *

There were a lot of abandoned rooms in the furthest parts of the Citadel. Cutler had started taking up there between training periods. Danse was splitting his time equally between Krieg’s training and mentorship under the scribes. That seemed to be working well for Danse, but Cutler felt almost as though they were back in the Commonwealth and Cutler needed to plan a time to go miles upon miles to see his boyfriend. Mealtimes were quickly becoming his favorite times, but even then, he had to share Danse with Lexi, Jaxston, Olwen, and a handful of other soldiers.

In the privacy of an empty room, Cutler flicked through one of the books in his collection. The holotapes and books had been some of the few things that made it into the duffle bag as the two left Rivet City.

“What are you reading?”

Cutler looked up. A young boy was standing in the doorway. Cutler had seen the boy around, he was the one always trailing after Sarah Lyons or watching their training in the bailey.

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” Cutler said. “It’s a book I found, but I think it’s in the middle of a series. There’s a lot of references I don’t understand.”

The boy nodded solemnly. “They should have uploaded more books to terminals before the war, maybe then we’d be able to enjoy them better.”

“You can read?” Cutler asked. He had only learned the skill as an adult when Carrington sat him down and taught him so he could better understand dead drops and signs used as landmarks. 

The boy bristled. “Of course I can read. I’m not stupid.”

Cutler was about to make a comment about how ignorant the boy sounded before it really sunk in how privileged those born into organizations could be. Danse could read, it was part of his programming. The boy, and other Brotherhood born soldiers, probably learned to read at such a young age, they couldn’t comprehend the inability.

“Sorry,” Cutler mumbled. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were.”

“Do you have any other books?” The boy asked, taking another step into the room.

Cutler weighed his options. He didn’t necessarily want to share, but the boy was around Jacob and Daniel’s age and Cutler could feel himself starting to project his nephews onto him. “Yeah, I have a collection going.”

“No way!” The boy said excitedly. He sat himself down next to Cutler. “Can I see them? Please? I’ll be really gentle with them.”

“I don’t have the time to go back to the barracks right now,” Cutler told him, “but you can read this one with me and then sometime later I can bring more.”

Cutler offered the book out to the boy. He took it carefully and started to read it out loud. Cutler settled back against the wall, listening to the boy confidently pronounce the words that Cutler hadn’t seen before. The book was easier to understand with the boy reading it.

* * *

Lexi and Olwen had an obsession with Cutler’s long hair. On their day off, Cutler found himself sitting on a bed in the women's barracks. Olwen was braiding his hair with practiced ease while Lexi fluffed up the other side lazily. Jaxston was there too because, as Cutler was learning, Krieg’s squad seemed to be attached at the hip. Danse was off doing whatever with the scribes.

“How long have you and Danser been a thing?” Lexi asked.

Cutler hummed quietly as he thought about it. He and Danse had arrived in Rivet City about nine months previous, which means it has been almost a year and a half since he and Deacon escorted M7, G1, and T4. “Probably about nine months or so.”

“Do you love him?” Olwen asked, giving his hair a friendly little tug. 

Cutler swatted her hand away. “Of course I love him.”

“Does he love you?” Jaxston asked, making a show of batting his eyelashes much to Lexi’s amusement.

“He does,” Danse appeared in the doorway. His hair was getting longer and his bangs were starting to fall in front of his eyes. Danse was practically oozing confidence in his Brotherhood uniform, his holotags hung from his chest with pride. Cutler could fall in love with him all over again just by seeing his smile.

The three knights cooed as Cutler blushed. 

Danse ducked his head to hide his smile as he made his way over to sit next to Jaxston.

“I got me a man too,” Lexi said. “He’s a scribe and a little wimp, so you guys wouldn’t see him around the bailey.”

“He’s a punk bitch,” Olwen helpfully contributed. “He sees blood and he just about falls ass-backward.”

“Scribe Garrison!” Danse exclaimed, excited that he had enough knowledge of his fellow scribes to know who they were talking about.

“Love him,” Lexi ruffled Cutler’s hair some more, “even if he doesn’t have the gorgeous mane that Danse’s man has.”

Danse gave Cutler a loose smile. “Johann’s hair is gorgeous, sometimes if the sun hits it just right, it’ll look like dark shining copper.”

Cutler’s face turned even redder. Danse rarely complimented his appearance outside of sex, and it was always blanketed statements calling him handsome, nothing this specific.

Three of Krieg’s knights and his scribe laughed at Cutler’s blush and Cutler tried not to flinch away at the attention. Danse thrived in this environment, Jaxston threw his arm around Danse’s shoulders and the topic of conversation turned to something new. Cutler wished he was back in his reading nook, he didn’t want to grow close to these people and he’d rather just fade into the background.

* * *

Krieg, Olwen, and Jaxston were wearing power armor while Cutler, Danse, and Lexi followed without. Cutler and Lexi were in their tight-fitting orange flight suits while Danse wore his field scribe uniform. The pink sleeves surprisingly didn’t look ridiculous on Danse and the vest with its seemingly unending amount of pockets was proving extremely useful.

Mutants were causing some sort of chaos and Lyons had told Krieg to sort it out as quickly as possible. Krieg and Lyons didn’t necessarily get along, for reasons Cutler couldn’t quite grasp, but there seemed to be some level of mutual respect. Danse seemed to idolize Krieg, although the man hadn’t gone out of his way to give Danse any specific attention. If Lyons came up in conversation, Danse would ‘respectfully disagree’ with some of the Elder’s choices and then subconsciously cast his eyes to wherever Krieg happened to be.

Krieg, for his part, didn’t seem to notice Danse at all. When they were training, he had his scribe work with whatever knight he wasn’t currently trying to improve. When they did things as a group, Danse was an afterthought to the four knights. Whatever weapon modifications Danse came up with, impressed Krieg, but the scribe usually wasn’t present when Krieg actually tested it.

Nevertheless, Cutler watched the hero-worship without comment. Danse credited Krieg to their enlistment and thus felt as though he owed Krieg some sort of debt.

Cutler snuck a glance at Danse as they followed their squadron. Did Danse still hold a debt to Cutler even though the memories of the reason had been erased?

“Movement to the left,” Olwen said, her voice disoriented over the helmet’s microphone.

Raiders, instead of mutants, approached from ruined buildings with their weapons trained. Cutler breathed in deeply through his nose and pictured them as the soulless Gen-2 synths. It made it easier to pull the trigger on his new Brotherhood issue laser rifle.

* * *

“You hide a lot,” Arthur told him with the blunt tone that only children seem to possess.

“You talk a lot,” Cutler bit back, scowling down at his book.

Arthur shrugged and turned the page of his own book. Cutler had found some pieces about a king sharing Maxson’s given name. The boy enjoyed them more than Cutler did, probably because his literacy was better. 

“You’re always here instead of with your squad,” Arthur said again after a few minutes. “If I had a squad, I’d spend time with them.”

“Don’t you have squires your age?” Cutler asked.

“That’s different,” Arthur stiffened. “They only see a Maxson, when really I’m just a normal boy.”

“Yeah well, my squad only sees Knight Cutler when really I’m a simple man.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you in the Brotherhood then? Is it because of Scribe Danse?”

Cutler contemplated answering before deciding against it. Arthur Maxson was currently under the care of Elder Lyons and Cutler didn’t want to draw any attention to himself. It also didn’t seem fair to Danse to be known to the Elder purely through their relationship.

“What do you think of Scribe Danse?” Cutler asked, unsure why Arthur would almost immediately know his boyfriend’s name and title.

Arthur’s ears went pink and he overplayed a shrug. “I guess I just seem him in the bailey sometimes.”

Cutler laughed. “He does like to spend a lot of his time training.”

“I’m not supposed to train there,” Arthur scowled. “Elder Lyons is treating me like a child.”

“You are a child,” Cutler supplied. “If you were one of my nephews, I wouldn’t even like the idea of you being a child soldier.”

“I’m a Maxson!” Arthur said before realizing that was the same thing he had just complained about a minute earlier. There was a beat before Arthur asked, “you have nephews?”

Cutler tensed. He had avoided talking about his family around Danse and Arthur could very well be the first person outside of the Commonwealth to know about them.

“I don’t want my personal life to become common knowledge to the Brotherhood,” Cutler settled on saying, trying his best to turn his attention back to the book.

“So you’re not completely loyal to the Brotherhood?” Arthur asked.

Cutler leaned his head back against the wall. “You wouldn’t understand, Artie, you haven’t lived like the common folk before.”

“Don’t call me that,” Arthur said. “Tell me about your nephews.”

“Okay, but I don’t want to hear about this leaving the room,” Cutler sat back up and Arthur sat back down on the ground.

“You promised not to tell everyone that this is my hiding spot too, so I won’t tell anyone about your nephews,” Arthur promised.

Cutler nodded and started talking about Jacob, Daniel, and Elijah. Arthur told him about how he only really knew his family through reputation and how the Lyons were his family now. The two talked for hours, and as Cutler walked back to the barracks he wondered why his only real friend in the Brotherhood was an eight-year-old boy.

* * *

The guards who kept an eye on the bailey during the night had become accustomed to Cutler wandering the grounds at night. Peaceful sleep usually only found Cutler when he was too physically exhausted to think. In the two months with the Brotherhood, Cutler hadn’t rested very often. He’d also succeeded in keeping the squad at arm’s length. There was a pang of loneliness when he sat silent during conversations, but the pang was overwhelmed by the panic of becoming close to someone again. The only person he was really close to was Danse, although Danse’s rigorous schedule and Cutler’s self-imposed isolation kept them apart most of the time. Arthur Maxson had become a companion. Some nights they would talk for hours, but most of the time, they kept silent as they read their way through Cutler’s collection. 

Cutler wandered back into the building and stalked the halls with no real purpose. He entertained the idea of finding bedding out in the Wasteland and bringing it into the reading nook. Though Arthur wouldn’t be happy with Cutler’s larger claim of the space, and Danse wouldn’t leave his assigned bed in the barracks. He sighed to himself as he passed through to the less frequented parts of the Citadel. Danse was so busy as a field scribe, and Cutler needed to find a way to lure him away from work.

Muffled voices down the hall caught his attention. Cutler stopped in his tracks and bent his knees. He moved forward after a beat, carefully placing his feet down silently with the same practiced ease all Railroad agents seemed to have.

“He’s one of the most dedicated men that I’ve seen.” Cutler recognized the voice, it was one of the head scribes. “You can’t just change his position in the Brotherhood! That’d be a waste of damn talent!”

“No,” Cutler recognized Krieg’s voice instantly. “A waste of damn talent would be to let the man stay with the rest of your scribes. I’ve done as you asked and I have been going out of my way not to praise him, but he still just keeps on going. That man has a spark of potential and it’s reassuring to know that he will work his ass off for the betterment of the Brotherhood.”

“You can’t just take him away after two months!”

“I can, and I will,” Krieg said with his commanding voice. “He could go further as a knight than as a scribe and with his dedication, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a Paladin in the next few years.”

“Lyons won’t approve it.”

“Of course he will, he let me recruit him and Knight Cutler from the Wastelands to begin with.”

“We recruit from the Wasteland all the time!”

Krieg laughed. “You might, but I certainly don’t. Danse is a good man, a dedicated man. If he’s just as good as my knights and he’ll only get better if knight training was his only focus.”

“Paladin, I’m asking you as a friend, don’t change how things are, Danse is plenty capable of balancing responsibility.”

“The Enclave is planning something, and I want my squad prepared. I need a great knight more than I need an okay scribe.”

The two started walking in Cutler’s direction, so he quickly stood and darted down the hall.

* * *

Cutler climbed the ropes with Olwen at his heels. Somehow, every exercise found a way to become a competition. Olwen grabbed his ankle and tugged, causing him to lose his stride. He clung to the rope desperately. Olwen scuttled past him with an overjoyed cackle.

“Get her, Cutler!” Jaxston yelled from the bottom. “Get her!”

Danse clapped his hands in the climbing rhythm that Cutler had just lost.

“Kick his ass!” Lexi called up. “Show him no mercy, Angelica! Make him rue the day he was born!”

Cutler couldn’t help but smirk as he pushed himself further up the rope wall. Olwen may be quicker than he was, but she didn’t have the stamina from long treks across the Commonwealth. He quickly made his way level with her.

“Attention!” Krieg stepped into the bailey. Cutler and Olwen froze in place on the ropes, while Danse, Lexi, and Jaxston saluted their commanding officer down on the ground.

“Get down here, Knights,” Krieg instructed. Cutler and Olwen jumped down and joined the rest of their squadron in a line in front of their paladin.

Krieg nodded his approval to the group of them. “Elder Lyons has seen the hard work the five of you have been putting in, but we feel as though there is a boundary keeping this squad from being one of the best.”

Cutler subtly looked over to Danse, knowing this must be about the conversation he heard the night before. The rest of the squad was subtly looking back at him and Cutler tried his best not to shuffle his feet. Why would they assume the thing that needed changing was him?

“Scribe Danse,” Krieg nodded his head to the man, “step forward.”

If Danse was nervous, he didn’t show it as he took a step forward. His posture held strong and his holotags shone brightly in the sun. He looked like a model soldier. That was the point though, Danse was the model soldier and Danse was going to be so pleased to be recognized.

“By order of Elder Lyons, I bestow the title of Knight to you, Soldier. You will report solely to me and you will be put on the same schedule as your brothers and sisters.”

“Thank you, Paladin,” Danse said smoothly. “Thank you to Elder Lyons as well.”

Krieg nodded to Danse. “Ad Victoriam, Knight Danse.”

“Ad Victoriam,” the rest of the squad echoed to their new knight.

Danse’s face turned red at the attention as he saluted them in return.

Krieg let the squad have their moment before clapping his hands. “On the move knights, no more slacking off.”

* * *

“I’m a knight!” Danse breathed excitedly against Cutler’s lips. Now that Danse had his afternoons free, Cutler was finally able to pull him off to a secluded part of the Citadel.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Cutler was sat on top of some crates with Danse standing between his legs. Cutler wrapped his legs around Danse’s waist.

“I’ve missed you too,” Danse said between quick kisses as he pulled Cutler’s hips closer to the side of the crate. 

Danse moved his head to kiss Cutler’s neck as they ground against each other. Cutler ran his hands over Danse’s back and bit his lip to suppress moans as Danse bit his skin.

Something clattered to the ground to Cutler’s left. Both men tensed before looking over.

Arthur Maxson stood there, the holotape he had in his hand had fallen and the red-faced boy quickly picked it up. “Sorry,” Arthur stuttered. 

Danse took a large step away from Cutler. “No apologies necessary, Squire,” Danse said, his voice flustered.

Cutler shot Arthur a hard glare and the boy quickly ran off.

“Come back here,” Cutler reached his arm out for Danse.

Danse shook his head, his body still facing the hallway. “People are going to see us.”

“No they won’t,” Cutler made a grasping motion with his hand. “Arthur and I are the only ones who hang out around here, and I really don’t think he’ll be coming back this way for a while.”

“Since when are you friends with Arthur Maxson?” Danse asked curiously.

Cutler groaned. “Saul, the very last thing I want to do right now is think about him.”

Danse shook his head. “I have more responsibilities now that I’m a knight.”

“Actually,” Cutler said, his voice nearing impatience, “you have fewer responsibilities as a knight. A fact I am excited about since I haven’t seen you in God only knows how long.”

Danse’s composure softened. “I’ve missed you.” He resumed his position between Cutler’s legs.

“I’ve missed you too,” Cutler said softly. He rested his forehead against Danse’s and took a minute just to breathe with the man he loved. Danse’s thumbs were rubbing circles over his hips and Cutler’s hands rested against Danse’s broad chest. He could feel Danse’s strong heartbeat under his palm and some of the worries he’d been carrying eased just to feel Danse alive in front of him.

“I love you, Saul,” Cutler told him, wishing there was a way for Danse to truly understand the magnitude of that statement. It seemed too simple to convey something so deep. Cutler sacrificed everything he was and everything he could have been for Saul Danse and he’d do it a million times over just to keep him safe.

Danse smiled at him, showing off the small dimple on his left cheek. “I love you too.”

* * *

“Knight, a moment.”

Cutler turned on his heels and casually slipped the blank holotape into one of the folds of his flight suit. It was Arthur’s ninth birthday in the morning and Cutler wanted to get him something to write his own stories on.

“Yes, Paladin?”

“Is there a reason you’re strolling around the halls in the middle of the night?” Krieg asked. “Perhaps I’m just getting old, but I don’t remember anyone on my squadron being assigned this late.”

Cutler gave a sheepish smile. “No, Sir. I’m just a bit pent up, thought I’d burn some energy before I went to bed.”

“Ah,” Krieg raised a thick silvery eyebrow. “Is there a reason you did not report this during your medical exam?”

“I’d say this only the second or third time this has happened,” Cutler lied easily. “Guess I didn't push myself in training as much as I could have, sir.”

“Cutler,” Krieg dropped his commanding voice for the first time. He sounded just as grandfatherly as he looked. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, Paladin, maybe I sleepwalk, but I couldn’t know for sure.”

Krieg sighed. “Let’s speak freely for a moment, Johann.” He lowered himself onto one of the benches in the hall.

Cutler hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to him.

“I don’t like recruiting soldiers from the Wasteland,” Krieg said, looking forward rather than at Cutler. “I’m sure some of our brothers and sisters would call that close-minded, but I’ve been around for a while and I’ve learned that those who are born of steel tend to stay of steel. Disregarding the Outsiders, of course. Wastelanders have whatever comfort comes from knowing that life is attainable outside of the Citadel walls. I saw you gathering resources for your operations in Rivet City, you moved around those super mutants like it was an art. When I heard that you were the one connected to that famous stand in Rivet City, I decided to take a chance on you and Saul.”

“And we appreciate that chance,” Cutler said sincerely. 

“I know you do,” Krieg said, “but you’d be just as well off if you hadn’t been given it. You are the kind of man who could lose everything he’d ever known and still keep walking forward.”

Cutler frowned. “Sir?”

“I’ve noticed how you keep yourself distant from the squad,” Krieg continued. “I haven’t said anything because, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Knight Danse is an exceptional soldier. His dedication more than makes up for your slack. I’m not blind to the fact that you two are a package deal and forcing you further into our ranks risks your desertion, and Danse’s as well.”

Cutler swallowed the lump in his throat and gave a nod.

“However, the rest of the squad is noticing that you’re the weak link. I was content to let you scrape by, but I have an example to set to my squadron and you need to start pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. Spend time with your team, Cutler, give them the reassurance that you have their backs.”

“Yes, sir,” Cutler mumbled.

Krieg nodded his satisfaction and stood up. “For my own curiosity, what did you lose before enlisting?”

“Nothing,” Cutler said a little too quickly.

“A man has to have lost something important if it stops him from becoming close to anyone else.” Krieg straightened his posture and looked like his usual commanding self. “Get some sleep, Knight.”

* * *

“Happy Birthday, Arthur,” Cutler presented the blank holotape to the boy.

Arthur grinned. “No way!” He snatched the holotape out of Cutler’s hands. “What on it?”

“Nothing yet,” Cutler watched Arthur scowl in confusion. “You can write stuff on it if you want.”

“Oh!” Arthur’s face went red with embarrassment. “I’m not really that good at writing.”

Cutler shrugged. “I just wanted to get you something unique, it’s okay if you don’t end up using it.”

“Thanks, Johann,” Arthur pocketed the holotape. “Elder Lyons got me a book, but it’s one that you already had.”

“Did you tell him that you already have it?” Cutler asked.

“Of course I didn’t,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t know that we’re friends, he thinks I’m studying the Codex by myself.”

“How long does he expect you to study that? You have the whole thing memorized.”

“He doesn’t know that I have it memorized,” Arthur said easily. “You can’t tell him either, or else he’ll double down on me spending time with the other squires and I really don’t like them.”

“Paladin Krieg wants me to spend more time with my squad, and I don’t really like them either,” Cutler sympathized.

“You like Scribe Danse,” Arthur pointed out. His ears went bright red. “A lot, apparently.”

Cutler’s face also turned red with embarrassment. “Danse is different, obviously. He’s not a scribe anymore, either. He’s Knight Saul Danse to you now.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “A technicality, he was always a knight. Krieg just said he needed a scribe because he wanted someone to watch how he used his laser rifle and then make a new one accordingly. Paladin Krieg’s like that, he’s always about what’s best for himself rather than what’s best for the Brotherhood.”

“Hey now,” Cutler was feeling protective of his commanding officer after their chat last night, “he’s not so bad. Paladin Krieg is good at doing what’s best for his soldiers.”

“Then him telling you to spend time with your squad should be your priority,” Arthur said easily. “And don’t think about turning this back around on me, because Lyons only wants me to spend time the squires because he doesn’t want me to turn out like him.”

“Do you want to turn out like him?” Cutler asked. “He’s a good man too.”

“He’s a good man,” Arthur granted him, “but he’s a foolish Elder.”

“Bold statements from a squire.”

Arthur shook his head, looking much older than his nine years. “I think we could do things differently, that’s all. If I was Elder, I would reunite the Brotherhood with the Outcasts and I would eliminate the raiders and the mutants right where they stand. I’m strong, I’m tough, I could do it.”

Cutler found himself nodding. “Yeah, Artie, I bet you could.”

Arthur looked more his age when he scowled at him. “Stop calling me that.”

Cutler held his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, guess what Sarah got me for my birthday!”

“What’d she get you?”

“She said she’d take me out on patrol with her! How awesome is that?”

* * *

“Can I play with you guys?” Cutler hated the insecurity in his voice as he addressed his squadron. The four of them were sitting around a battered Blast Radius board in the rec room.

“Of course you can,” Danse said, giving him a gentle smile. Cutler sheepishly made his way over to the table. Olwen, Jaxston, and Lexi were looking at him curiously. There weren’t any more open chairs, but Danse had scooted his chair back from the table. Cutler was both embarrassed, because he didn’t just want to be Danse’s boyfriend, but grateful because he needed to be grounded. He sat on the edge of Danse’s lap and threw his legs over his boyfriend’s. Danse put one arm around his waist and the other over his knees to steady him.

“We’re in the middle of a game,” Jaxston told him, “but we can add you in during the next round.”

“Thanks,” Cutler rested his head on Danse’s shoulder and watched the rest of his squad play the game. 

His thoughts wandered as the squad finished their round. After his conversation with Kreig, Cutler was feeling more optimistic, like a part of his mask had chipped away and someone unintended saw Johann somewhere inside of Cutler. Danse, with his sturdy heartbeat and prideful smile, was Cutler’s motivation for the future. Arthur, with his youth and thirst for understanding, was Cutler’s remembrance of a past life, and Krieg, with his guidance and acceptance of Cutler’s shortcomings, was a gentle reminder to live in the present.

“Alright, Johann,” Olwen handed him the dice. “You roll first.”

Cutler smiled genuinely to his squad and rolled the dice.


	3. Chapter Three: Lone Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really thought this would be a shorter story, but here we are

There was not a lot of room in the mess hall in the Citadel. Cutler sat between Arthur the wall with Danse sitting across from them. Danse was going on about a tactical exercise Krieg and Gunny had devised together and Arthur nodded along with a jealous excitement.

“I would have done the exercise quickly,” Arthur said confidently. “My father was over six feet tall and strong, and I will be too.”

Danse forced a polite smile and nodded his agreement while he looked over and gave Cutler panicked eyes. Cutler nudged his foot under the table. Danse was awkward around kids, especially Arthur who Danse thought was too young to carry the burdens and responsibilities of a family bloodline.

“I have a soul forged from eternal steel,” Arthur continued. Lyons had passed that tidbit onto Arthur almost a month ago and the boy was still finding ways to inject it into conversations. Cutler thought he was sweet, Danse thought he was in over his head.

“You’re going to be a fine knight someday,” Danse eventually said, cutting off Arthur’s rehearsed speech about the Maxson legacy.

Arthur’s eyes lit up. “Do you really think so, Danse?” Arthur worshipped the ground Danse walked on. Sometimes it made Cutler jealous that Arthur liked the other knight more than him, but he figured it was better than the two not getting along. 

Arthur liked how by the books Danse was about Brotherhood ethics, and Danse had long since promised to turn a blind eye to Arthur’s presence in the bailey. Sooner rather than later, Lyons was really going to crack down on it instead of individually telling the squire to steer clear, so Arthur became Danse’s shadow as a last hoorah before his inevitable time out. 

Danse froze, his eyes once again meeting Cutler’s to make sure he was doing this all right. Cutler tilted his head toward Arthur, who was slowly hunching his back the longer it took Danse to confirm.

“For Elder Maxson,” There was a bit of sarcasm hiding under his words, but nevertheless, he said it kindly. 

Arthur beamed. “I’m going to be the best elder the Brotherhood has seen, I’ll show the mutants who’s boss.”

Cutler ruffled Arthur’s hair. “Save some ambition for the rest of us, Artie.”

Arthur swatted his hand away and quickly tried to fix his hair. “Stop calling me that!”

“Stop bullying the poor kid, Cutler,” Olwen sat herself down in the seat next to Danse and shamelessly reached over to steal a handful of instamash from his tray.

“Use a fork,” Danse berated her. He stuck his own fork in the direction of her salisbury steak.

“Do not make me kill you in front of these nice people,” Olwen threatened.

Danse rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his own food.

“Where are Lexi and Jaxston?” Cutler asked. “Doesn’t Krieg want us to be having team meals?”

Olwen leaned against the table using her elbows. “They’re getting gossip, and I’m here to tell you what I know.”

Arthur frowned. “We shouldn’t be gossiping about our brothers and sisters.”

Cutler wrapped his arm around Arthur’s shoulder and tucked the child against his side. “Go ahead, Angelica. Spill.”

“Last night, there was a group of civilians who arrived at the front gate. We weren’t going to let them in, obviously, but this woman identified herself and Lyons personally greeted her. It was her, a few scientists, and rumor has it, a vault dweller.”

“How likely is it to meet a real vault dweller?” Danse asked. “It’s just gossip.”

Cutler had been wandering the halls like usual and he had seen a red-headed girl in the telltale blue vault suit. Her knees were shaking and Scribe Rothchild had led her to the infirmary. 

“Unlikely still could mean possible,” Cutler contributed.

“Her dad died,” Olwen said softly. After getting to know her, Cutler learned that Olwen’s father had been a paladin in the Brotherhood and died during a disease outbreak. She had been a squire at the time and she still actively mourned the loss.

“Who’s dad died?” Arthur asked.

“The vault dweller,” Olwen supplied. “Apparently she followed the scientists down to the lab and then ended up curled in a corner in tears until Rothchild had to escort her to the B-Ring.”

Arthur shrugged as best he could under Cutler’s arm. “My parents died too, it happens.”

Danse picked at what was left of his instamash. “I don’t really remember my parents.”

Cutler shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling obligated to share too. “My parents died a few years back.”

“I didn’t know that,” Danse met his eyes across the small table. “You didn’t say.”

Cutler shrugged. “It never came up.”

“My mom is downstairs in the laboratory,” Olwen said, “and she’s devastated that you’re not a scribe anymore, Saul.”

Danse took a moment to process that Olwen was talking to him. He reached across the table and grabbed Cutler’s hand before turning to her. “She just liked how well I could describe my thought processes.”

“It’s something she’ll never get from her own daughter, so just accept that she loves you.”

Danse’s face turned red. “She doesn’t love me, Angelica.”

“Well, I love you and that’s enough for her,” Olwen said, bumping her shoulder against Danse’s.

“I can’t believe you’d steal my boyfriend right in front of me,” Cutler teased.

“She’s not stealing me away from you,” Danse said quickly, his eyes widening in panic.

Arthur pushed himself out from under Cutler’s arm. “He’s teasing you, Danse. Because he’s a jackass.”

“I thought we weren’t saying mean things about our brothers and sisters. Doesn’t that include me, Artie?”

Arthur stuck his tongue out at him.

* * *

Cutler sat cross-legged in his and Arthur’s isolated room with an old Grognak comic in his lap. Now that he had so many Brotherhood commitments, Cutler found it hard to find time to add literature to his collection. In rotation to Galaxy News Radio, Cutler had picked up a sound operating manual but it wasn’t nearly as interesting as he thought it would be. Maybe if Danse was interested, he could get more enjoyment out of it.

“Excuse me?” A timid voice brought Cutler’s eyes off of the paper. “I’m supposed to be looking for the archives?”

The vault dweller stood awkwardly in the doorway. Her shoulder-length ginger hair was out of the ponytail she had it in the night she arrived. Blue eyes, a bit darker than Arthur’s, met his and Cutler could clearly see the bags beneath them.

“You’re a bit far out from there,” Cutler said slowly, trying to calculate how she could end up in the abandoned rings before finding the heavily frequented archives.

The vault dweller shrugged. “I always seem to find myself in weird places without realizing how it happened.”

“I’ll lead you to the archives,” Cutler set the comic down and stood up, “but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell people that I was back here.”

“If I’m being completely honest, I probably wouldn’t be able to find my way back here to tell anyone,” she said with a small laugh. “I’m Ramona. Though most people call me Lone. Not that you should call me that. I like Ramona.”

“Johann Cutler,” he led her down the hall. “They call you Lone?”

Ramona hummed and nodded. “Lone Wanderer. Three Dog said so on the radio.”

“You’re the one who fixed the broadcast!” Cutler remembered hearing all about it both from Brotherhood soldiers stationed in the area and from Three Dog’s recounting over the radio waves.

Ramona sighed. “Please don’t get all worked up about it, I only did it so he would tell me where my dad was.”

“Oh,” Cutler wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation without bringing up that Ramona’s father was dead.

“Yeah,” Ramona let her words trail off. They continued the rest of the journey in companionable silence.

* * *

Cutler struggled to keep his eyes open as he stood in a suit of power armor. It felt redundant to have guards stationed inside of the Citadel, but it was better than having to pace the bailey, pretending as those all the initiates with guns couldn’t handle themselves.

Danse and Jaxston took shots at a centaur the other day which proved to be the most interesting that their squad had been a part of in the last month. The Enclave reemerged a few days ago at the Jefferson Memorial and Krieg wasn’t allowed on the front lines while he argued with Lyons about helping the common people. There was a lot of talk about Krieg having potential with the Outcasts, as a result, Krieg had his squadron working more as if to prove loyalty. So Cutler stood with Danse, with a door between them as other soldiers strolled through the halls.

“So, what’s the latest report?” Arthur asked, stopping in front of Danse. The boy rocked on his heels and toes and let his arms swing freely at his side. Cutler was amazed at how Arthur could keep up with Brotherhood politics while still being a relatively normal ten-year-old boy.

“Enclave troops have fortified the purifier complex,” Danse responded. “With those vertibirds, they’re able to transport personnel at a remarkable rate.”

Looking lost, as per usual, Ramona emerged from around the corner.

Arthur, probably trying to seem cool to either Danse or the vault dweller, said “See you later alligator,” before turning to Ramona.

Danse chuckled under his breath and Cutler felt himself smile under the helmet as Danse’s laugh transmitted between the matched set of armor.

Arthur stuttered his way through his introduction to Ramona and stood red-faced and embarrassed when she eventually walked away.

“Chin up, Arthur,” Danse said as soothingly as he could through the power armor helmet. “She’ll see just how talented you are in no time.”

“I know! You don’t have to say it!” Arthur snapped before ducking his head and trotting off toward his own quarters.

“Poor kid,” Cutler said quietly into the comlink between him and Danse.

“Do you think he likes her?” Danse asked. “What age do kids start having their first crush?”

Cutler rolled his eyes in his helmet. Danse had to be oblivious to not see that Arthur already had crushes. Then again, Danse had to ask if Cutler was flirting with him after they walked through Diamond City holding hands.

“I miss you,” Cutler glanced over at Danse. Cutler was slouching as much as possible in power armor while Danse stood straight and solid. “Do you have any more things to do after this shift?”

Danse shook his head. “This is my last responsibility for the day.”

“You think we can convince Krieg to give us some off time in Rivet City?”

“Rivet City?”

“Yeah, I’m getting tired of looking at the same walls every day and it’s been too long since we’ve been alone without worrying that someone will walk in on us.”

“Last time we were there your health wasn’t the best,” Danse spoke gently. “You were restless and depressed in Rivet City.”

Cutler frowned and chewed on his lip. After Krieg told Cutler to befriend the rest of the squadron, the all-encompassing panic started to dwindle, but Cutler still wasn’t sleeping and he hardly had an appetite. He liked Jaxston, Lexi, Olwen, and Maxson, but he still felt separated from them by miles with no way to fully give himself to those relationships. Even Danse, without his memories of the Institute and Commonwealth, had to be kept at an arm’s length for his own protection.

“I just want to be close to you, that’s all,” he mumbled, keeping his voice low even in the comlink.

“Johann, I don’t want you to go if it’s going to make you ill.”

Cutler couldn’t help but sigh. Danse was so caught up in the Brotherhood that he seldom realized that Cutler already wasn’t taking very good care of himself. A better boyfriend would have noticed. Cutler’s teeth dug deeper into his lip as he contemplated whether or not that last thought was rational.

“Just think about it,” he finally responded before silencing the link and straightening his stance.

* * *

Cutler laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling in the darkened barracks. Once the side conversations died down, Cutler would have his opportunity to wander. The Lone Wanderer, Ramona, was somewhere in the barracks to having been taken in with the knights rather than the scribes. She too finds herself in weird corners of the Citadel at odd hours but she operated on accidents rather than the purposeful avoidance Cutler regularly practiced. They hadn’t spoken to each other since he led her to the archives, but every other night when they inevitably bumped into each other, they communicated through nods of acknowledgment.

“Johann,” Arthur appeared over Cutler’s head and poked his shoulder.

Cutler scowled at him but Arthur just peered down from where he stood next to the bed. “Go to sleep, Arthur,” he said softly. “I don’t want to get shanked by the Sentinel because you’re up past bedtime.” 

“I threw up,” Arthur whispered. His breath did smell like vomit and now that Cutler was really looking at him, he did look pale.

Cutler sighed and got out of bed. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.” He hoisted Arthur up onto his hip and let the boy bury his face in his shoulder. Further proving how sick he was, Arthur made no protest to being carried and even wrapped his arms around Cutler’s neck to stabilize himself better.

A few conversations stopped as they stared at Cutler carrying the squire, but news of Cutler’s friendship with Maxson had long since made the rounds when the other knights realized the two simply had their own little book club.

Cutler had a sneaking suspicion that Arthur was afraid of Sawbones. There was no reason the boy would stop into the barracks before the infirmary unless he wanted comfort. Cutler felt a surge of affection for the boy for coming to him before Danse, maybe Arthur did value their relationship.

Inside the infirmary, Cutler set Arthur down in the examining chair and went to turn on the Mr. Handy. Sawbones gave a customary greeting as he floated above the ground causing Arthur whimpered miserably from where Cutler left him.

“Do you want me to get Elder Lyons?” Cutler asked, returning to Arthur’s side to hold his hand.

The boy shook his head. “I have a soul forged from eternal steel.”

“He sent a mass message banning you from the bailey,” Cutler reminded him, “Lyons knows you are a normal boy who is capable of getting sick.”

Arthur slouched in the seat and gave a weak glare. “Sarah knows that I can fight.”

“I suppose so,” Cutler said lamely as he tried to think of more conversation topics to distract Arthur.

Sawbones finally made their way over to them, buzzsaw aimed forward a few inches away from Arthur’s eyes. The boy, being as committed to the brave act as he was, merely swallowed the lump in his throat and kept his body as steady as possible.

Cutler rubbed his thumb over Arthur's knuckles as the ten-year-old squeezed his hand.

“Are you trying to amputate his head?”

Sawbones, rather than slicing Arthur on the forehead for a blood sample, floated his way over to Ramona.

The Lone Wanderer unceremoniously shoved the robot out of the way and watched as it wobbled in the air.

“The Codex reminds us-” Arthur was on the verge of a lesson about respecting Brotherhood property before he stopped mid-sentence and tried to forcefully stop his body from lurching. Cutler got the message and grabbed the metal bucket next to the chair. Arthur let go of Cutler’s hand to grab the bucket, leaving the man free to rub gentle circles in Arthur’s back as the boy threw up.

“I can probably help better than the Mr. Handy,” Ramona interjected, crouching down on the other side of the examination chair. “My dad was the vault physician and the G.O.A.T placed me as a clinical test subject.”

Instead of asking what the goat was, Cutler asked, “what can I do to help?”

“Nothing really,” Ramona responded, “just stay by his side and keep him relaxed.”

Arthur finished and rested his head against the cool metal rung of the bucket. Tears welled in the corner of his eyes and Cutler wrapped his arm around him as best he could while Ramona performed an actual examination.

It didn’t take Ramona long to declare that Arthur had a garden variety flu, probably brought in by a squadron and showing extreme symptoms in Arthur’s smaller body. She gave the squire some of her own personal purified water and recommended rest. They could administer a variety of wasteland brewed remedies, but Arthur protested that those resources should be saved for extreme circumstances.

Cutler carried Arthur back to his quarters and carefully tucked him back into bed. Arthur, though he’d act like it was an accident, quietly whimpered when Cutler got up to go, so the knight found himself sitting on the edge of the boy’s bed, giving him comfort as he drifted off to sleep.

When Arthur’s breathing eventually settled, Cutler watched his face and was met with the realization that he cared deeply for the boy. Arthur had a place in his heart the moment they met and Cutler saw a child similar in age to his older nephews, but as time passed, Cutler started replacing his nephew’s face’s with Arthurs rather than the other way around.

Cutler wandered back to the barracks after a while and actually fell asleep after an hour of thought. He dreamt of himself in Nordhagen with his family, the waves lapped gently against the shore and the sun reflected so bright, the world outside of the beach existed only in rays of light. The boys laughed as they chased each other through the sand and the adults sat around the fire making light conversation. The tin can alarm rattled, but no one jumped to the defense. Cutler turned his head and watched as Danse and Arthur crossed the bridge. There were no synths behind them and no conflict arose. There was peace.

* * *

“You look alive for once,” Jaxston commented as Cutler sat with the squadron the next morning at breakfast.

“You know just how to boost my confidence.” Cutler bit into his razorgrain toast and tried not to look at Lexi’s broad morning smile.

“Why did you go off with Maxson?” Danse asked bluntly, a frown dominating his face.

Cutler scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “Does it matter?”

“It’s not important,” Danse settled on saying, seeming to realize that the conversation between Olwen and Lexi ended so the two could join Jaxston in staring at the two of them.

“Saul,” Cutler said his partner’s name sternly, clearly letting him know that they’ll have to talk about this later.

“Johann,” Danse responded in a similar tone.

“Jesus,” Lexi muttered. “What is up with you two?”

“Dad and Papa are fighting,” Olwen tried to joke, but it fell flat as a tense silence occupied their table.

“I’ll meet you all in the bailey,” Danse stood from the table and headed outside.

“What was that about?” Jaxston asked.

“I don’t know,” Cutler pushed his food aside and rested his chin in his hand as he waited for the other three to finish their meals.

* * *

Krieg spent the better part of the morning shouting at them loud enough to give Gunny a run for his caps. Their teamwork left a lot to be desired and Krieg seemed to blame Danse, resulting in the newest knight doing most of the drills more than once. Late in the afternoon, the Paladin let them go with a stern lecture on leaving their personal issues out of the bailey.

“Knight Cutler, hold back for a minute.”

Cutler stayed back as the rest of the squad went back inside. He tried to slow his breathing so as to not blatantly pant in front of his commanding officer.

“Whatever issues you’re having with Knight Danse, sort it out before I have to transfer one of you.”

“Transfer?” Cutler shook his head. “This is the first time this has ever happened.”

“It’ll be the last,” Krieg said authoritatively. “Now, more so than ever, we need to show Lyons how effective we can be against the Enclave. How can I convince the Elder to put us on the front lines when my squadron is having petty quarrels?”

“You made Danse take the punishment,” Cutler said, having long since started to talk to Krieg less formally when the two were alone. “But I’m the one getting the second lecture.”

“Knight Danse has potential,” Krieg answered simply. “He needs to be made an example of.”

Cutler scowled at the backhanded insult. “I’ll sort it out, Paladin.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

* * *

Cutler found Danse alone in the barracks with his rifle in his lap. The weapon was deconstructed and Danse sat on his bunk carefully rebuilding it. Cutler briefly felt a longing for the Institute issue laser rifle he had used back in the Commonwealth. Before joining the Brotherhood, Cutler had ceremoniously tossed it off the side of the ship to avoid its origins being tracked. He and Danse had first bonded over that specific weapon and Cutler hoped that it wasn’t a metaphor for their relationship.

“Hey,” Cutler leaned against the doorframe. “We should talk.”

Danse nodded his head in acknowledgment but didn’t look up from his work.

“Why do we keep doing this?” Cutler carefully sat down on the far edge of Danse’s bunk.

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Cutler tried searching Danse’s face for answers. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t want you to have to carry my burdens.” Danse set the half-assembled rifle down.

“I’m your partner,” Cutler reminded him, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his head calling him a hypocrite.

“Did I force you to join the Brotherhood?” Danse asked. “You’re always slinking off to hide somewhere and it’s becoming increasingly complicated to locate you.”

“I wasn’t forced,” Cutler could see the traces of vulnerability in Danse’s eyes. “I’m just not good at following orders and being a part of groups.” 

While he thrived working with Deacon and the Railroad, he was more or less an agent trusted to operate on his own terms. The Brotherhood was more structured and more hung up on appearances. Dez let Cutler vanish as long as he got his job done. Krieg and other Brotherhood personnel kept constant tabs. It was claustrophobic, but not impossible.

“Saul, listen,” Cutler scooted closer to him, “we are intertwined. Wherever you go, I will follow. You thrive here and as we established in Rivet City, I’m not really satisfied anywhere. As long as you’re happy to be in the Brotherhood, I’m happy to be in the Brotherhood.”

Danse sighed. “You’re just distant, Johann. Back when we had the junk stand, I at least got to spend time with you, now it seems like Maxson has more luck finding you than I do.”

“I’m not trying to be distant, I promise.” Cutler bit his lip. “I’m just caught up in my own mess and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

“We’re having the same problem,” Danse acknowledged. “We both don’t want to cause unnecessary stress for the other.”

Cutler nodded and picked up one of the screws sitting on the bed. He let it roll around in his palm while he tried to gather his thoughts. Back in the Railroad safe house, Danse had wanted to be part of something bigger and Cutler wanted to live a simple domestic life. They tried being domestic and it hadn’t worked. They’re trying to be a part of something bigger and that isn’t working either. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Cutler whispered.

“I need to know what you’ve been hiding from me.” Danse took his hand into his own, the screw pressing against both of their palms. “Johann, I understand why you’re putting up boundaries, but I need to know what this is. I promise you that whatever it is, we will work through it together. There is nothing in the world that will make me leave your side.”

Tears welled in Cutler’s eyes. He tried to turn his head to look away, but Danse had locked him in such a sincere gaze, that Cutler couldn’t find the will to turn his head. “Please don’t, Saul. Please.”

“Johann,” Danse cupped Cutler’s face with his free hand. “Nothing between us will change.”

“Why don’t you cuddle with me?” Cutler pivoted, turning his eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to stop himself from crying.

  
“Why don’t I cuddle with you?” Danse let go of his hand and set the screw back down on the mattress with the rest of the disassembled rifle. He got up off his bunk and nodded his head for Cutler to follow him. They walked the few beds down to Cutler’s bed. Danse climbed onto Cutler’s bunk and opened his arms. “Come here.”

Cutler sighed softly and climbed onto the bed next to Danse, their legs tangled together as they laid nose to nose. “We could do this every night, you know.”

“It’s against regulation,” Danse said softly, his hand gently skimming over Cutler’s side.

“Some things are worth breaking the rules over,” Cutler said even quieter, “I can’t sleep, Saul.”

“Johann.” Danse’s amber eyes met with his again and Cutler closed his eyes. “Be honest with me. You’ll sleep better if you do.”

“Stop pressing against matters you don’t understand. It’s not my secret to tell.” Danse’s identity as a synth was his alone and while Cutler was the gatekeeper, Danse himself had said that he did not want to live a lie. Cutler had told him that the world was bigotted and the world should be the ones to be ashamed that Danse was presumably lesser for being a synth, but those words provided a loose comfort rather than security. If he gave Danse just an inkling that Cutler had past dealings with synthetic beings or an underground organization, it wouldn’t be long until Danse connected the dots back to his own past which would undoubtedly send him spiraling. Being distant from Danse was better than not having Danse at all. Cutler’s knight was sincere and open. He gave his life to the Brotherhood willingly and if the Brotherhood ever went toe to toe with the Institute, Danse would sacrifice himself without hesitation as though his own life wasn’t worth saving. That scene plagued his nightmares too, he’d stand between Danse and an unidentifiable silhouette representing the Brotherhood. Danse would drop to his knees, giving Cutler permission to execute him.

“I’ll keep it between us, Johann,” Danse promised, “maybe I can help.”

“You can’t help.” Cutler kept his eyes closed as he felt more tears start to form. “It’s so complicated, Saul, and I can’t go against the promise to keep this to myself. It’s grounding me, it’s giving me a purpose. I need something to focus on, I need something to protect or else the boring monotony of life is going to swallow me up and I’ll be a worthless boy that raiders can ransom for a handful of caps.”

Danse wrapped his arms tighter around Cutler, bringing their bodies even closer together. “You will never be worthless.” Danse’s forehead rested against his own.

Cutler struggled for a moment longer to contain his shaking body before a sob ripped its way out of his throat. Danse rubbed his back soothingly and kept the world at bay while Cutler cried.

After a few minutes, Cutler calmed down well enough to stop the tears from flowing. His breathing was still uneven and Danse simply continued to rub his back while he hiccuped miserably.

“Were you kidnapped?” Danse asked softly once the hiccuping stopped. 

Cutler nodded his head. “My family couldn’t afford to get me back.”

“This person that you’re protecting,” Danse spoke carefully, not wanting upset Cutler anymore than he already was, “were they kidnapped too?”

“They escaped somewhere horrible,” Cutler whispered, “and I don’t want to be the reason they get sent back or hurt.”

“Okay,” Danse scooted up and kissed Cutler’s forehead. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I have two older sisters,” Cutler found himself saying, “and three nephews.”

“You do?”

“I can’t go back to them. If I go back, the person I’m trying to protect will be in great danger and so will my family. I can’t be responsible for something bad happening to them, but dammit Saul, I miss them so much it aches. My sisters have families of their own and I’m not a part of it anymore and I want things to go back to how they were before, but at the same time, I wouldn’t want to live a life without you, without the squadron, or without Maxson. There are all these sides of me, tugging for my attention and I can’t give myself fully anywhere and I’m scared.”

“I would notice if something happened to you,” Danse said reassuringly, as if for a single moment, he understood Cutler’s strife, the one related to Johann and no one else, and cut straight at its core. “I would never forget you and I would always come after you. There would be no question, no amount of caps too high, no secret to heavy, no excuses, no illusions. I will always be there for you and if a monotonous life swallows you whole, you would still be the most priceless person in the world.”

“I love you,” Cutler said, once again wishing that Danse truly understood how deep and profound that statement was.

“I love you too,” Danse answered with the same conviction.

* * *

Cutler woke up in the middle of the night to the uncomfortable growling of his stomach. He and Danse must have fallen asleep after their talk because Cutler was resting his head on Danse’s chest. Cutler took a minute to blink the sleep out of his eyes before carefully detangling himself from Danse’s arms. A small smile found its way onto Cutler's face, it could from the peaceful look on Danse’s face or the fact that no one woke them up to remind them about protocol, or the fact that he now had two reasonable rests in a row.

Easily sneaking out of the barracks, Cutler grabbed a snack before heading toward Arthur’s quarters. He knocked gently on the door and after a beat, slowly let himself into the room. Arthur, although it was almost two in the morning, sat typing at his terminal.

“What do you want?” Arthur asked, his voice raspy and his complexion pale. 

Cutler shrugged, not really expecting the squire to be awake. “I just wanted to check in and see if you were feeling better. Training took up my whole morning and afternoon and I fell asleep until just now.”

“I’m okay, Elder Lyons got really worried and he put me on bed rest.”

“Bet you really love that,” Cutler commented.

“I hate it,” Arthur said quickly. “I convinced Rothchild to let me transcribe some of the pre-war books for the archive database so I at least have something to do. Some of your books aren’t even here.”

“You didn’t tell Rothchild about our collection, did you?”

“No, because I think it’s stupid that Lyons only lets scribes and squires read books. When I’m a knight, I still want to read books rather than milling around aimlessly. Lyons doesn’t even have a literacy program for the knights, how are we supposed to move forward as a society if we can’t properly communicate through the written word? The knights bring all this technology back to the Citadel without even understanding what they’re carrying.”

“You think Sentinel Lyons will change that?” Cutler asked.

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, I do. If she doesn’t though, when I’m the Elder, I’ll change it. We’re putting the Wastlelanders at a disadvantage. Brotherhood born soldiers can read and write and with Wastelanders, we’re lucky if one out of ten can. Wasterlanders can’t even read the Codex, they have to have it recited. We should be building the Brotherhood equally rather than having this complex superiority system.”

“You say that,” Cutler said carefully, seeing the age of Maxson’s soul behind his eyes, “but you have that soul forged from eternal steel. You shoot ghouls and mutants on sight, or you would if Lyons would let you go on patrols.” 

“I’m going to prove myself,” Arthur said confidently. “I will prove why the Maxson bloodline is important, but if I were to fail, I would want to be taken down for it. Wastelanders should be able to prove themselves too. As for the ghouls and mutants, they’re not healthy. They’re sick and they’re cancers polluting the rest of the world.”

“And the ghouls who aren’t feral?”

“Ticking time bombs. Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

Cutler frowned, figuring exactly what Arthur would say about synths. “I’m not arguing with you about mutants and ferals, but regular ghouls deserve the same opportunities as everyone else.”

“Would you want to be responsible for a ghoul turning feral and killing innocent people?” Arthur asked abrasively. “If we want to rediscover the peace our books describe, we have to make hard decisions. If you were to turn into a ghoul, I’d kill you and I’d hope you would do the same for me.”

“Is that a mercy?”

“Yes.”

Cutler sighed. “Arthur, think about it for a bit. Rationality and free will make a person, indiscriminate killing would be a genocide.”

“I don’t feel good,” Arthur turned away from him. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Alright,” Cutler took his cue, “feel better soon.”

* * *

The next few weeks shaped up to be some of Cutler’s best in the Brotherhood. After talking to Danse, some of his panic did ease up. Even weight he’d unknowingly been carrying since the kidnapping lessened on his shoulders. Nighttime became less intimidating as Cutler and Danse shared a small bunk without any issues. Jaxston, Lexi, and Olwen had teased them good-naturedly, and Cutler found the teasing more fun than in the Railroad when even the teasing felt like some sort of battle to overcome.

Ramona seemed to awaken out of the daze of mourning she’d been drowning in. Elder Lyons placed her under the command of Star Paladin Cross and it wasn’t uncommon to find Ramona obediently following Cross around in an attempt to learn her way around a laser pistol. She held onto her reputation as the Lone Wanderer and when Cross was busy with Brotherhood duties, Ramona would head off into the Wastes for whatever adventure she could find. Cutler learned Ramona’s last name when Arthur referred to her as Knight Sawyer. Ramona had flinched away from that, apparently, in the vault her father had been referred to by Dr. Sawyer and she associated the name more with him than herself.

Arthur bounced back from the flu quickly and tagged along with Ramona and Cross who, every once in awhile, let him take shots with laser weapons to avoid another friendly fire incident. Sarah had recovered quickly and Arthur referred to it as a flesh wound. Cutler had chosen not to tease the boy about it even though Arthur relentlessly teased him about the time Cutler got stuck in the training ropes and was hanging upside down for almost a full minute before he freed his foot and tumbled onto the ground.

In their free time, Danse and Cutler spent a lot of time with Arthur. Cutler would read with him and Danse would challenge him to games of chess. Cutler wondered briefly while watching Danse ponder his next move if this is what life would have been like in Nordhagen if they had stayed with Cutler’s family. Would Danse teach Jacob and Daniel to play chess? What would Danse be like with his own child? Would he be as good with them as he was with Arthur? Cutler watched Danse triumphantly put Arthur in checkmate and wondered if they could be like other couples in the Brotherhood who started families. Plenty of children in the Wasteland needed homes and the Brotherhood grew in the east because its members had adopted children in addition to creating their own.

* * *

Krieg, sensing that he wasn’t getting anywhere with Lyons, granted them three days off to do whatever they pleased in the Wasteland. The five of them allowed Krieg to stress the importance of maintaining the Brotherhood image and to be ready to return at a moment’s notice as any Enclave activity required all hands on deck.

“You’ll leave in the morning,” Krieg concluded.

“Yes, Paladin,” Krieg’s five knights responded.

Krieg nodded his satisfaction before mustering a small smile. “Jaxston, Lexi, do your best not to bring in anymore strays.”

Danse’s eyes widened in shock while Cutler and the others laughed. 

“Paladin, who knew you had a sense of humor!” Olwen grinned.

Krieg didn’t respond as he turned away from them with a salute.

* * *

“Elder Lyons?”

Cutler tried not to shuffle in his boots as the elderly leader of the Brotherhood turned to look at him. The scribes subtly glanced away from their work to see what was going on. Ramona sat on Liberty Prime’s shoulder, fastening something to Dr. Li’s instructions. She gave Cutler a loose grin at his audacity to approach the Elder.

“Knight.” The Elder addressed, clearly having no idea who Cutler was and why he approached him.

“I’m friends with Squire Maxson,” Cutler said carefully, knowing the Elder was aware of their friendship mostly because Maxson decided to take ownership of it and practically dared the Elder to get upset about it. Arthur could be a rebellious child when he wanted to be.

“Ah, you’re the one encouraging him to read,” Lyons looked him over as if to judge his character based on appearance. Cutler was relatively clean of scars, a benefit of growing up in near isolation. His long hair had been chopped into a reasonable military standard, his curls only just starting to reappear on his head. Even his beard had been trimmed to look cleaner.

“Yes, Elder,” Cutler kept his eye contact, “I was wondering if we could take Squire Maxson with us on a trip to Rivet City. My squadron would keep a close watch on him and Knight Sawyer has cleared a route between the Citadel and the city so the route shouldn’t be too treacherous.”

Lyons raised an eyebrow. Cutler wished more desperately that Danse or Olwen had asked the Elder instead, Danse had more grace with authority and Olwen had experience with the Elder since she was a squire at the same time Sarah had been.

“Walk with me, Knight.” Lyons turned and led him into one of the file rooms off the lab. Cutler stood with his back straight as the Elder addressed him alone. “Do you know why Squire Maxson is not permitted outside of the Citadel walls?”

Cutler waited a beat to see if the question was rhetorical. Lyons made no motion to continue, so Cutler answered. “Because he's ten years old.”

“That is part of it, but he’s also the last of the Maxson line,” Lyons said. “You may be a Wastelander, but I’m sure you’ve since heard of the divide we have with our brothers and sisters to the west. Maxson represents the connection we have to the west, even the Outcasts respect the Maxson name. I cannot risk him aimlessly for excursions around the Wasteland.”

Cutler opened his mouth to argue, before listening to the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Danse, telling him to keep protocol in mind. “Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

“Granted.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time with Squire Maxson and I think he would benefit from having exposure to the outside. Right now, he is caught up with the expectations of the west and he is hungrily consuming their viewpoints without question. Not to say the west is horribly misguided, but there is a reason there is a divide and if Arth-, Squire Maxson doesn’t truly understand why the Brotherhood defends the people, he may become something,” Cutler waved his hand, not sure how to articulate it. “I believe in Squire Maxson, Sir, because I’ve spent time with him. Other Wastelanders think nothing of the Maxson name. If you really want to cement Brotherhood ties here, you should let Squire Maxson become part of its cultures and traditions. Why would he defend Rivet City if he’s never been?”

Elder Lyons took a minute or two to digest Cutler’s words. The knight could practically see the cogs turning in Lyons's head. “He’ll go in disguise,” Lyons eventually decided. “With an alias and he will keep his comments to himself throughout the entire journey otherwise you will turn and bring him straight back.”

“Yes, Elder,” Cutler said quickly with a salute before Lyons could change his mind.

* * *

“Okay, I’ll be Arthur’s mom,” Olwen was saying as the seven of them, including Ramona who mentioned something about finding out the city’s history, headed out of the Citadel. “PJ, you can be the dad. The rest of you are our older adopted children.”

“Does it need to be that complex?” Danse asked. He looked uncomfortable out of his Brotherhood fatigues. The outfit was the same one he was wearing when they enlisted and made the trek toward the Citadel, but Danse looked like a different person wearing them. Synths didn’t gain muscle mass or lose weight, instead, it was Danse’s attitude that shifted.

“Of course,” Olwen attached herself to Jaxston’s arm. Jaxston sighed but played along. 

Arthur took in the sights of the Wastes like a synth leaving the Institute for the first time. He pointed to things excitedly and asked how it worked. Ramona took most of the questions, eager to explain them as she’d only just recently learned these things after a lifetime in a vault.

Cutler leaned against Danse’s side as they walked. “Do you think they sold our room to someone else?”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t,” Danse said, wrapping his arm around Cutler’s shoulder. “They probably have another stand taking our place in the market.”

“If it’s Flak and Shrapnel, I’m going to kill someone,” Cutler mumbled. They had a rivalry with the two men, it had started as a joke, but somewhere along the line, it became serious.

“We had better advertising,” Danse said easily. “They came to Rivet City for one of Saul’s mods.”

“Yeah, yeah, but Flak and Shrapnel sounds so much better than Johann and Saul.”

“What is it like in Rivet City?” Arthur detached himself from Ramona’s side and walked beside them instead.

“Relatively calm compared to the rest of the world,” Cutler said easily. “There’s not much fear of attack and the security, while apathetic about most things, actually does a good job keeping us safe from anything inside the city.”

“Every once in a while, there would be a bar fight,” Danse said, slowing their pace for the benefit of Arthur’s smaller legs, “and there’s a nest of mirelurks under the ship, but I’d say it’s just as comforting going to sleep in Rivet City as it is to go to sleep in the barracks.”

“Abraham Washington has a museum of sorts where he collects documents and memorabilia symbolizing American history. Saul liked to spend time there and I’m sure you’ll like it there too.”

“Do you think he’d know about the city’s history?” Ramona asked.

“If anyone did, I’d assume it’s him,” Danse answered. “I don’t think I ever thought to ask about how the city was founded.”

“Why didn’t you check last time you went?” Arthur asked.

Ramona shrugged. “I was more interested in finding my dad than I was about exploring.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Arthur said insensitively, still not understanding why parental loss was a big deal.

“I guess,” Ramona ended the conversation there and jogged to catch up with Olwen, Jaxston, and Lexi who were a few feet ahead.

* * *

The people of Rivet City welcomed Cutler and Danse with loving arms. People approached from all corners of the marketplace to shake their hands and ask how they were doing. Quite a few people offered Danse caps in return for weapon repairs and modifications. Danse, probably not realizing how much he missed tinkering, separated from the squadron to use the public workbench in the corner across from Flak and Shrapnel.

Cutler spoke just enough to be polite, something the citizens of the city understood having known that Danse was the talker out of the two of them. When the greetings finished, Cutler led the group, minus Danse, up to the Weatherly Hotel. 

A boy similar in age to Arthur sat in the lobby of the hotel. He brightened and jumped down from a chair and threw his arms around Ramona’s legs. “Hey Bry,” she greeted him fondly. “How are you doing, kid?”

“I like Rivet City a lot, Vera’s very kind to me.”

“That’s good,” Ramona said happily.

“Go play with him,” Lexi said to Maxson. “See what kind of mischief you can get into.”

Arthur didn’t validate that with a vocal response, he merely scrunched up his nose in protest.

“Go on, Art,” Cutler encouraged, “you have to maintain your cover.”

Arthur considered this carefully. “Alright,” he conceded after a moment, “because I’m supposed to.”

Lexi subtly offered her hand to Cutler for a high five which he easily gave her.

“Now what do we do?” Jaxston asked, watching as Arthur got dragged out into the hallway by the boy in the overalls.

“You don’t know what to do in the city without stealing venders for the Brotherhood?” Cutler teased.

“Yeah, that exactly,” Jaxston said easily. “Maybe I’ll go recruit those guys you and Danse are waging war against.”

“Did you see how pissed they got when everyone crowded around Saul?” Lexi grinned.

Cutler laughed. “We had a reputation for a reason, Flak and Shrapnel only have their snazzy name.”

“Where should I go to find Abraham Washington?” Ramona asked in the lull of their conversation. “I want to get this research out of the way.”

“He’s in the Conservation Society,” Cutler directed. “It’s just outside of Dr. Li’s old lab.”

“Thanks, Cutler,” Ramona gave him a smile and headed off.

“So,” Olwen clapped her hands together, “let’s go play pool.”

* * *

Ramona eventually joined them in the Muddy Rudder a few hours later. She was utterly useless in their quest to beat the Rivet City population in games of pool and argued that the Tunnel Snakes and hogged the table in the vault so it was technically their fault and not hers.

“I’m going to find the Declaration of Independence,” Ramona told them over the stale bar food they were eating for lunch. “Anyone want to tag along?”

“Where would it be?” Lexi asked.

“The Mall.”

“I absolutely don’t want to go,” Jaxston said, speaking for the rest of the group.

Olwen rested her elbow on the table and wagged her finger at her. “Just because you have a death wish, doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” 

Ramona waved her hand dismissively. “I get things done, it’s not my fault that the Brotherhood doesn’t.”

Olwen scowled. “We get things done, we have goals, Sawyer.”

“Can I ask you something?” Ramona addressed all of them, ignoring Olwen’s eye roll. “I’m not trying to be rude or anything, there’s just something I want to know.”

“Shoot,” Lexi nodded her head.

“At what point do you stop following the ideals of the Brotherhood?” A shocked silence met her words, so Ramona continued. “In the vault, we followed without question even though a lot of the practices didn’t make sense. When the tension became too much, we turned against each other rather than the status quo. I guess my question is, would you guys rather turn against the Codex, or against each other?”

“I’d turn on the Codex before I turned on any of you,” Cutler answered, not even needing a moment to consider it. The sentiment was engraved into his bones and he actively practiced what he preached.

“The Codex wouldn’t put us in that position,” Jaxston stated. 

Ramona sighed. “Play with me in the space, PJ.”

“I would die for you guys,” Olwen said softly. “We’re a family and I’m not saying that I would betray the Codex, but I would get to the bottom of whatever the mix up was.”

Lexi grinned good-naturedly. “Look at us, we’re bonding and we’re doing it without Krieg telling us to.”

“We don’t have Saul,” Jaxston interjected, jumping on the joke rather than the serious conversation topic, “so would Krieg really be pleased?”

“Can’t bond without the golden child,” Olwen nodded solemnly.

Ramona stayed out of the banter and instead poked at the snack cakes on her plate.

Cutler kept his eyes on Ramona, even when Olwen threw her arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a side hug. He racked his mind for something to distract her from the stifling memories of the vault.

* * *

“Come on!” Ramona hopped up and down on the metal deck of the ship. The weather was pleasant and Ramona had excitedly jumped on the offhanded comment Cutler had made about Rivet City having a baseball diamond. “This is going to be great!”

Lexi, the strong woman that she was, tossed one of the baseballs up into the air and swung the bat hard enough to send the ball sailing up over the open water before it fell too far away for them to hear the noise.

Olwen, Jaxston, and Cutler couldn’t hold back their laughs at the jaw dropped expression on Ramona’s face.

“Regina!” Ramona wrestled the bat out of her hands. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

Lexi let the bat go easily. “You should’ve started with an explanation of the rules.”

Ramona gave her a scowl that was clearly overplayed as a part of the bit. “Rule number one would be to not lose the equipment.”

“I didn’t lose it, I know where it is.”

Ramona put a hand on her hip and pointed toward the water. “Go get it then.”

“No thanks, boss.” Lexi smiled. “I’ll throw you a few caps to get you a new one though.”

“Hey!” The five of them turned to the new security chief who strode towards them, tugging Arthur by his elbow. The squire’s lip was busted and his cheek was bruised. All five of them tensed.

“Which one of you is in charge of him?” The security chief asked, keeping his grip firm on Arthur when the boy tried to yank his arm away.

Arthur glared at him and turned that glare to the rest of the group.

“I’m his mother,” Olwen stepped forward and ushered Arthur towards her when the security chief let go of him. She kneeled down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands to check his eyes for a concussion. Arthur only seemed to get more agitated by that motion, but he had to play along.

“What happened?” Cutler asked.

“Dumb kids getting in a fight,” the security chief said. “This one caused a lot more damage in the fight, but knowing James, it probably wasn’t your boy who started it.”

“Thanks, we’ll keep him out of trouble going forward.”

The security chief nodded to them and turned to go back inside. Cutler found himself satisfied with the new man in charge of security, the man who was in charge when Cutler and Danse lived in the city was too apathetic to be good for anyone.

“You got into a fight?” Olwen chastised Arthur once she was satisfied that he was okay.

Arthur took a step back from her now that they were alone. “He started it! Bryan, CJ, and I were looking through storage rooms for caps and loose gear that we could play pirate with and then this kid came in and took what we found. He wouldn’t give it back and said that he could take me in a fight.”

“So you beat the shit out of him?” Ramona asked, completely aghast. “Doesn’t the Codex have stuff to say against that?”

Arthur had the decency to look ashamed. “Yes, but he’s not one of my brothers.”

“Does it matter?” Olwen pressed. “Should you or should you not be applying these rules all the time, whether or not you are around your brothers and sisters in the Citadel?”

It was obvious that Arthur was getting overwhelmed by the way he hunched his shoulders at Olwen’s question. Cutler couldn’t help but sympathize, he too lost himself when playing a role. It was like putting on a mask and becoming someone new with an entirely different set of rules and expectations. Poor Arthur had been put on a pedestal the moment he was born and the one time he was allowed to be a normal boy, he was being reminded of the expectations of his lineage.

“He gets the point,” Cutler interjected. Olwen gave both of them disappointed looks. Maybe Cutler should have let Arthur get chastised for the betterment of the Brotherhood’s future. Nobody wanted a leader who couldn’t be told no or was rarely challenged for their wrongdoings, but Cutler was protective of Arthur and Olwen wasn’t going to teach that lesson with the same reassurance Cutler could.

“You can’t get him out of everything, Cutler,” Olwen hissed.

“Forget it!” Arthur threw his hands up. “Please, can we just not talk about this anymore?”

“We’ll tell Elder Lyons about it when we get back,” Jaxston said soothingly as if he was reliving the tension, “and we won’t bring it up again until that point.”

Arthur paled but nodded nevertheless.

“Should we play the game then?” Lexi asked hesitantly.

Cutler shook his head. “You guys play without us.” He put his hand on Arthur’s back. “I’ll help him clean up the blood.”

“We’ll meet you for dinner then, in the market.”

* * *

The two were silent as they walked through the city and up to the hotel room that Cutler and Danse reserved for just the two of them. Arthur sat on the old couch and accepted the wet cloth Cutler gave him to wash the blood on his lip.

“If you’re going to yell at me,” Arthur mumbled. “Just get it over with.”

“I’m too tired to yell at you.” Cutler lowered himself onto the floor and laid on his back to stare up at the ceiling. “I get it, you know? It’s hard to follow all these rules and expectations and everybody messes up once in a while.”

“I’m a Maxson,” Arthur whispered as if it were some secret. Cutler could’ve raised his head to get a better look at Arthur’s face, but if Arthur was going to get emotional, the last thing he needed was Cutler’s gaze.

“I’m a Cutler,” he responded. “In my family, we stand by each other unquestionably. We pull each other up when the other is struggling.”

“I’m trying to do that!” Arthur snapped.

“Hey now, let me finish. The point I was getting to was that there was a moment where I had to look my sisters and my nephews in the eyes and say goodbye to them forever. I took away their option to stand with me and I wasn’t there when they needed me most. Hell, they could need me right now and I’d be none the wiser.”

“What’s the moral of the story?” Arthur asked.

“I don’t know,” Cutler mumbled after a beat, realizing there wasn’t a specific point beside his own projection onto the squire. “You’re not alone, I guess. Everybody messes up and even though you’re a Maxson, you’re still human.”

“Did your nephews fight each other?”

Cutler laughed. “All the time, we’d get worried if we hadn’t heard them fighting in a while. It’s normal.”

“I’ve never hit anyone before,” Arthur confessed. “I mean, I have during training and stuff, but that was against a knight wearing padding. Us squires aren’t allowed to fight each other and I didn’t get to get really hands-on when Sarah took me out onto the field.”

  
“How’d it feel?” Cutler asked, this time propping himself up on his elbows to gage Arthur’s expression.

Arthur took a moment to ponder. “I felt powerful, really powerful. Like I could do anything. It didn’t even matter that he was hitting me back, I just pounced on him.”

Cutler quickly dropped back onto the old rug before Arthur saw his eyes widen. “Jesus, Artie.”

“What? You do it all the time in the field.”

He wanted to tell Arthur that kills on the field were more so done for survival purposes than as conquests to a path to glory and power, but Arthur would be insulted and Cutler didn’t want to offend him. Instead, he said nothing, loosely throwing his arm up over his eyes while Arthur went back to wiping up blood.

* * *

Danse rejoined the group just before dinner and bought food for all of them with his spoils of a day of work. Cutler let Danse wrap an arm around his waist, knowing that his boyfriend felt guilty for spending the day away from the group. The evening winded down peacefully and Cutler and Danse excused themselves to their room to get properly reacquainted with each other without the fear of being walked in on.

That night, Cutler woke up with his ear against Danse’s chest. His partner’s heart beated securely and Cutler raised his hand to gently run his fingers through Danse’s hair. Cutler fought off a yawn as he admired Danse’s relaxed features. He was so much more at ease when not putting on his stern soldier persona. Danse would always be his soldier, his loyal nature and unwavering dedication put him above and beyond everyone Cutler met in both in the Commonwealth and the Capital Wasteland. He wasn’t necessarily stern, no matter what the squad said. Danse was focused, like the laser rifles he modified and just as powerful. His heart was warm and sweet even if he was awkward around people he didn’t know as well.

Another yawn fought its way out of Cutler’s body and the man realized the only real reason he was awake was because of countless night time wandering messing with his internal clock. Outside of their room, waves lapped roughly against the ship, signifying some sort of radstorm. Security walked its familiar paths through the halls and just for a moment, Cutler saw the hotel room as their bigger room from when they had the junk stand. They changed a lot from then, both of them becoming stronger, Cutler physically and Danse emotionally. The two of them had a family and Cutler felt more attached to the authoritative paladin, rowdy knights, restless squire, and wandering vault dweller than he had been to any member of the Railroad.

A tap at the door got Cutler detangled from Danse and out into the hallway. Ramona had her 10 mm attached to the belt of her vault suit and her pipboy quietly playing the music loop Three Dog played when he was asleep.

“Listen, Johann, it’s our time of night, which means you have to be honest with me.”

“Honest?” Cutler scrunched his eyebrows together, a mannerism he picked up from Danse. “Is this about Art?”

“No, but Angelica is still pissed about it and it was super fucking tense in our room between the two before Art fell asleep.”

“Am I going to be in the dog house in the morning?” Cutler asked, only half teasing.

“Oh, absolutely,” Ramona nudged his shoulder with her own. “You’re done.”

“Well, tell Saul I love him and tell Art he can have my books.”

“Will do.” Ramona nodded her head for Cutler to follow her down the hallway. “Listen, back to honesty hour. We’re friends, right?”

“Of course we are,” Cutler said without hesitation.

“Great! So you’ll let me in on the secret?”

“What secret?”

“Pinkerton. I feel like the whole city is keeping the history secret and I just want to know. I won’t even tell Moira, but if I don’t figure it out, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Uh,” Cutler raked his memories. “I wasn’t here when Pinkerton was, but I think he was replaced by Dr. Li.”

Ramona sighed and nodded. “This sucks, why would people not want to know where they come from or how things came to be?”

“I don’t know,” Cutler said lamely. “Maybe you can ask Dr. Li about it when we get back to the Citadel.”

“She doesn’t really want to talk to me,” Ramona said with a shrug. “I don’t really want to talk to her either, so it balances.”

“Why don’t you want to talk to her?”

“It really feels like she knew my dad better than Reu and I ever did. The way I see it is that Dr. Sawyer is my dad, and James is this mysterious man who abandoned his children.”

“I’m sure he had good reasoning,” Cutler said carefully. “Nobody ever wants to leave their family, but sometimes it’s what’s right for the greater good.”

“We could have helped him!” Ramona hissed, tears quickly coming to her eyes. “Reuben’s twenty-one and I’m nineteen, we aren’t children! I’ve survived in this foreign environment all by myself and Reu could’ve helped him build Purity. Maybe if Reu was installing the fuses and I was in the rotunda I could’ve saved him.”

Cutler wordlessly took her into one of the storage rooms and pulled her into a hug. He was only wearing the pants he grabbed when he answered the door, but Ramona didn’t seem to care that he was shirtless as she cried against his chest.

When she started to calm down, Cutler softly asked her who Reuben was.

“He’s my brother,” Ramona took a step back and wiped her eyes on the sleeves of the vault suit. “We were escaping the vault to go after Dad when the Overseer caught us trying to use the tunnel. Reuben threw himself between me and them and told me to run. I don’t even know if he made it through the day alive. Jonas didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Cutler wasn’t sure what to say. He wondered briefly what people had said to comfort Rebecca and Rachel when they traveled to Bunker Hill without Cutler beside them.

“It is what it is,” she took a deep breath. “It’s another reason Dr. Li won’t talk to me. The team had the fear that Purity would fall apart if there were children around, but when Reu was born, they actually became more inspired than burdened. Then I was born, Mom died, then Dad hid away in the vault with a toddler and an infant, lied to them for two decades, then fucked off the ends of the Earth with only a four-letter acronym to show for it.”

Cutler wasn’t sure how to comfort her, he held out his hand for her to grab, but the faraway look in Ramona’s eyes stopped her from noticing.

“I want to talk about something else,” the vault dweller decided after a moment.

“Okay,” Cutler nodded his head. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Something productive. Do you want to go with me to Megaton? Lyons said I should stop traveling alone.”

“I thought Cross was going to go with you.”

“Cross wants to go straight to 87, but I have some pit stops to make.”

“If Krieg will let me, I’ll go.” Cutler, no matter how much he didn’t like to admit it, sometimes missed the adventure in traveling great distances. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Ramona smiled. “It’ll be a party. You think we can get the rest of the squad too?”

Cutler shook his head. “The squad comes with Krieg and he’s going to vote for the direct route.”

“Damn,” Ramona sighed. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

Cutler covered his mouth as he yawned again. “And on that note, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with Pinkerton, and if you don’t need anything else, I’m going back to bed.”

“Actually, before I let you go, can you answer one other question I have?”

“What is it?”

“What do you know about the Railroad and the Institute?” Ramona asked, shaking Cutler to his very core with a single sentence.

Blood drained from Cutler’s face and he could feel his knees lock. As much as his mind screamed at him to remain casual, his adrenaline was shooting through the roof.

“How do you know about those things?” Cutler asked, finding himself going subconsciously reaching for his Institute laser pistol. He could feel the burning heat of Switchboard in his bloodstream as his heart pounded frantically in his chest. “Ramona, answer me.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ramona backed herself up against some fallen filing cabinets.

“Ramona, answer the question.”

“Johann,” her words were soft and full of pity, “are you the android?”

“I-” Cutler froze. “What would you do if I was?”

“Nothing,” Ramona said plainly, holding eye contact. She stood taller, understanding that Cutler was reacting out of his own fear rather than against her. “We’re friends, I’d never turn you in.”

“I’m the synth,” Cutler whispered after a moment, willing to go down for this as long as Danse was spared.

Ramona wrapped her arms around him in a hug. His chin rested on the top of her head and he allowed her to rub circles into his back. “I thought you erased your memories,” she mumbled against his chest.

“It’s not the easiest thing to do,” Cutler said, knowing just how lucky the Railroad was to have Dr. Amari. 

“You changed your face and your voice.” Ramona took a step back and ran her fingers against his cheek as though that would allow her to feel a difference from her own skin.

“Is the Institute here?” Cutler whispered, avoiding the caring look Ramona had in her eyes.

“Yeah. A man named Zimmer approached me and offered to pay me to find you. I found your holotapes, I don’t know if it’s all of them.” She pulled one of them out of her bag and loaded it into her pipboy.

The voice was one Cutler didn’t recognize, the synth was detailing to Zimmer why he had chosen to run away. Cutler didn’t know who the synth was and why he couldn’t hide in the Commonwealth. If he knew Zimmer, the head of the SRB, personally, he was most likely a courser. That’d be why the Institute was looking for him with a human unit rather than a synth one. Cutler hoped the man was able to start anew.

“What did you hear about the Railroad?” Cutler asked when the holotape played through its entirety.

“A woman approached me and told me what their mission statement was and said I’d be a member in good standing if I gave this to Zimmer.”

She pulled a synth component out of her bag. “He’ll think that it’s you, Johann. I’ll tell him that you’re dead and I killed you.”

Cutler took the component out of her hand and examined it carefully. Because Cutler was looking for it, he could see the slight semblance of Tinker Tom’s work, although he wasn’t sure how to describe it. Cutler handed it back to her after a moment and was hit with the realization that this is the second time someone promised to fake his death.

“Did the Railroad say anything else?” Cutler asked hesitantly. “Are there any of their members around?”

Ramona shrugged. “Just the woman I spoke to, I think. She seemed really eager to get out of here, probably because she doesn’t want to get traced back to you.”

“What was her name?”

“Victoria, I think. I don’t know if that was her real name though.”

Cutler nodded slowly. Because Ramona was there, he wasn’t fully panicking, but the close proximity of the Railroad terrified them. If they saw Danse, they might decide to kill him to tie up that loose end. Hopefully, Zimmer would be too tied up looking for his courser to identify M7-97. Still, there was no need to take chances. “We should go back to the Citadel.”

“It’s the middle of the night.” Ramona shook her head. “I need to take the android component to Zimmer anyway.”

“Okay, but in the morning. Please make up some lie to tell the squadron.”

Ramona nodded and hugged him again. “It’ll be okay, I’ll protect you.”

“Heavy burden to protect a synth,” Cutler warned her.

“It’d feel heavier to carry the weight of betraying my morality.”

Cutler sighed and returned the hug. “I should get back to Danse.”

Ramona reluctantly dropped her arms. “I told Regina and Angelica that I’d be back with nukas like twenty minutes ago.”

* * *

“Danse,” Cutler crawled back into bed and carefully shook his partner awake.

“What?” Danse blinked the sleep out of his eyes and sat up quickly. “What is it?”

Cutler bit his lip, unsure what he wanted to say. Danse seemed to get the message anyway, he wrapped his arms securely around Cutler and rocked him gently as the shorter man started to cry.

“You did really well today,” Danse said softly into his ear as Cutler held onto him. “You kept up in conversations and you didn’t slink off all day.”

“Thank you,” Cutler sighed, copying the soft touch Ramona did. Danse felt as human as ever and if Cutler hadn’t been the one to escort him to a safe house, he never would have known that Danse was a synth. “You’re growing stubble.” The skin beneath his fingertips was rough.

“I’ll shave it off in the morning,” Danse promised, leaning into the touch.

“No, don’t. I like it.” Cutler rested his forehead against Danse’s.

Danse stifled a yawn and closed his eyes. “Are you okay to get back to sleep?” Danse mumbled.

“Yeah, go back to sleep, Saul.” Cutler climbed out of bed and pulled off the jeans he had worn for his late-night wanderings. He climbed under the covers and instead of being the little spoon, he protectively wrapped his body around Danse’s like he had done those nights they camped on their trip out of the Commonwealth.

If Danse had any protest to the change, he didn’t express it and after a few minutes, Danse’s breathing evened out.

Cutler rested his nose against the back of Danse’s neck and focused on the quiet creaking of the ship. He’d have to be on his guard while the Institute and Railroad were about, there wasn’t any more time for panic.

* * *

The marketplace was the most relaxed in the mornings. Cutler usually didn’t bear witness, his hatred for the early morning made it more Danse’s scene. Tiredness clung to him as he followed Danse past the pool table and down the stairs to Gary’s Galley. Lexi and Olwen, the early birds, already claimed a table and were chatting easily over mirelurk cakes. Arthur and the boy in overalls were sitting a few feet away playing marbles.

“Hey, Danse. Hey, Asshole,” Olwen greeted them as they sat down at the table.

“Good morning, Angelica,” Danse said gracefully,

Culter mumbled out his greeting and sat down. He rested his cheek in his palm and found his desire to keep watch over Danse dwindle slightly as he let his trust in the squad carry some of the burdens of Danse’s safety.

Breakfast passed in a daze. Cutler was about to excuse himself back to the hotel room to go back to sleep, passing the watch to Lexi and Olwen, when Ramona ran down the marketplace steps with Jaxston hot on her heels.

“We have to go back,” she said breathlessly.

“Why?” Lexi asked, raising an eyebrow. “We have more than one day, Sawyer.”

Cutler caught a glimpse of the crazed look in Ramona’s eyes and realized she wasn’t carrying out her promise to lie to the squadron, there was a real emergency.

“Vault 101, there’s some sort of situation. Amata needs me.” Her whole body vibrated with panic.

“How did you reach that frequency all the way over here?” Arthur asked, having left Bryan when Ramona ran over.

She waved her hand dismissively. “Reuben was the pipboy programmer. He gave me a lot of upgrades for the fun of it. You guys, we need to leave.”

“We have to drop Art back off,” Jaxston reminded her in a tone suggesting he’d mentioned this before she barged down.

“Okay,” she looked right at Cutler. “I’m cashing in the huge favor you owe me. We’ll go straight to 101 and everyone else can take care of the boy.”

“I’m not just a boy!” Arthur protested.

Cutler got a sick feeling in his stomach, realizing that Ramona intended on holding the synth issue over his head whenever it was convenient for her. “Okay,” he said because he had to. “Lead the way.”

“Johann,” Danse grabbed his wrist. “You’d be disobeying direct orders from Paladin Krieg.”

Culter, in his frustration, pulled his wrist away a bit harsher than necessary. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Don’t.” Danse’s jaw was set. “We’ve been given a privilege and if we put a toe out of line, not only will you suffer, but the squad will suffer, and Krieg will suffer.”

Ramona glared at Danse. “There are things more important than the Brotherhood.” She turned to Cutler. “Let’s go. Now.”

Cutler only caught a brief look at the betrayal on Danse’s face before forcing his head away to follow Ramona out of the city. He could only hope that Jaxston, Lexi, and Olwen would protect his family.


	4. Chapter Four: The Sawyer Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cutler helps the Lone Wanderer with Vault 101 and Project Purity.

“Johann, wait!”

Danse called after him and Ramona as they crossed the bridge. Cutler kept his jaw tightened and refused to turn his head. Ramona picked up her pace into a jog and Cutler had no choice but to follow her. Clanking on the metal deck signified Danse’s pursuit but Cutler and Ramona’s well-built stamina and endurance were no match for Danse, no matter how determined he was. Ramona hopped down the suspicion building and quickly ushered Cutler down into the metro. If Danse followed them into Anacostia, they quickly lost him as they maneuvered around the collapsed tunnels.

The further into the tunnels they ventured, the less Cutler was able to see and breathe. Two centuries worth of dust created a thick blanket on the ground, clear paths had been formed, presumably by Ramona and the ferals she cleared out months ago when she first headed to Rivet City. After a few moments of holding his breath, Culter had no choice but to breathe, letting the dust enter in through his mouth and nose, temporarily suffocating him. Cutler coughed and blinked his eyes to get the dust away as Ramona slapped her hand harshly against his back. She wrapped a bandana over her nose and mouth. A spare was quickly tied around Cutler’s face once he cleared his lungs. The green light from Ramona’s pipboy illuminated the darkened tunnel, showing the skeletons and trash left behind by their ancestors. There was a suffocating silence, only disturbed by the rustle of the belts on Ramona’s armored vault suit. Even their footsteps were muffled. Adjusted to underground spaces from her vault upbringing, Ramona moved swiftly and confidently. She was probably the only person in the Capital Wasteland who spent enough time in the tunnels to memorize the routes.

Cutler reached for his Brotherhood rifle before remembering that it had been left at the Citadel. He was armed with a 44 magnum as if the people in Rivet City weren’t already plainly aware that he and Danse were Brotherhood. Not that it mattered at the time, Cutler wasn’t expecting to be dragged out of the city into the Wasteland.

After a bit of fiddling with the dials of her pipboy, Jack Shaindin’s _Let's Go Sunning_ , started playing from the GNR station. “We’re about two hours out,” Ramona told him casually as if there was nothing wrong with the situation. There was a skip in her step as if she was dancing along to the song. The frantic claustrophobia she must’ve been feeling in the city seemed to have eased away now that she was headed back home. This was Ramona’s element, just her, the music, and her 10mm. The true Lone Wanderer. 

A quiet rage was simmering just under the surface and Cutler wasn’t sure what to do with it. He was never angry, directly, at the Institute. It was too intimidating to get mad and at the end of the day, the Institute gave him Danse. Ramona, on the other hand, was manipulating him directly, playing God with his decisions without taking a single moment to consider his feelings. Even the Railroad gave Cutler the illusion of control.

Ramona seemed to be oblivious to Cutler as she hummed along with the song. Cutler wanted to smack her as dread settled in his stomach. Elder Lyons was going to be pissed that Cutler and Ramona abandoned Maxson, even if they left him with the rest of the squad. Krieg would be pissed that Cutler didn’t follow direct orders, especially after Krieg was fighting so hard to prove to Lyons that they were not about to abandon the Brotherhood in favor of the Outcasts. Danse was probably standing on the surface looking as confused and abandoned as he did on the trail heading south. For the first time, Cutler wouldn’t be there to comfort him. Did Danse know how to cope? How traumatic would it be for Danse to experience abandonment?

“Hopefully, Amata’s just being dramatic,” Ramona said after a while. “She can be like that sometimes. You’d think otherwise since she’s shaping up to be the next Overseer, but hey.”

“I’m glad you dragged me out here because your friend is being dramatic,” Cutler mumbled, his voice muffled behind the bandana.

“It’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” Ramona answered. Her shoulders hunched and she turned on her feet to face Cutler. “Listen, it’s not nighttime, but let’s have honesty hour.”

Cutler struggled to have sympathy for her. He stared straight past her.

Ramona sighed. “Alright, Johann, please stop being angry. This isn’t easy for me. When I go back home, I’ll know whether or not Reuben is dead or alive. Do you know how difficult that is? It’s the question about ignorance and bliss.”

Once again, Cutler didn’t give a response. Ramona couldn’t play the sibling card when she was holding the secret keeping Cutler from his siblings over his head as if it were a toy. If time travel were possible, Cutler would go back and stop himself from talking to Ramona the night before. Hell, he might stop himself from meeting Ramona at all.

“Johann,” Ramona was most definitely sticking out her bottom lip under the bandana. “Why are you so upset?”

Cutler’s fists clenched and his eyes snapped to Ramona’s. She looked inhuman under the green light. The dust created a mask around her and Cutler swallowed the hateful words he had for her. She controlled his life now. Any friendship they might have had shriveled up and died an hour ago in the marketplace.

Ramona sighed. “Okay, fine. Be that way.” She adjusted the volume of her pipboy to turn the music up.

* * *

By noon, the two had left the metro tunnels and were making their way into Megaton. The settlers seemed to love Ramona as when she entered, they all crowded around her. A nuka-cola was placed into her palm with another round of thanks for her good deeds. Cutler separated himself from the crowd, knowing that they would head up the hill to the vault once Ramona talked to Moira, bought more ammo, and stopped to visit the town doctor. Megaton was an especially hard town to navigate; the sharply sloped paths stung the muscles in Cutler’s calves. He sat down on the roof of the highest building he could reach. Scribes back at the Citadel had excitedly questioned Ramona about her method of disarming the bomb laying in the middle of the town. Only now, looking over the population of Megaton, does Cutler realize how many lives Ramona risked for essentially no reason. The bomb had been dormant for two centuries and she had fiddled with it for the hell of it. Cutler hated her. 

The sun reflected brightly against the metal walls and buildings, making it seem as though the town was drowning in a euphoric light. Cutler watched as glimmering bits of light shone through the glass and sprinkled through the white reflection as multitudes of stars condensed in a useless city in the middle of a dead wasteland. The Children of Atom had declared that Megaton was a holy land and Cutler understood why. Old war books described an entrance to the light from a long tunnel of darkness. Maybe that’s why Ramona loved Megaton. Because she emerged from the dark and oppressing vault to the town of Megaton that embraced her lovingly. Almost the same as Rivet City protected him and Danse from the uncertainty of the outside world. Cutler laid back against the metal and closed his eyes, pushing those thoughts from his head as to not get too comfortable with Ramona again.

“Johann!” Ramona called up to him after the hour had passed. “Let’s go!”

Cutler jumped down and followed her out of the city. Ramona moved briskly now that the vault was in sight. She moved with purpose, as though nothing would distract her from this goal.

“Ramona?” Cutler could feel his heart skip a beat. “You gave that synth component to Zimmer, right?”

“Yeah,” Ramona turned the frequency of her pipboy to the distress signal she had picked up earlier that day. “First thing I did when I got up. He got pissy and left. I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You weren’t paying attention?”

Ramona halted and turned to glare at him. “Johann, I know I said I wanted to know what was wrong, but now is not the time.” She moved her wrist up into his face, shoving pip-boy’s tuned frequency in his face. “Focus.”

Cutler nodded and pulled his gun out of the hoister connected to his belt. He felt surprisingly comfortable going into the unknown in only civilian clothing. Ramona was getting on his nerves just as much as Deacon did and for the first time in a long while, Cutler felt in his element.

The two traveled into the mountainside and up to the imposing vault door. Faded by two centuries, the yellow 101 tied the woman in the vault suit to the glorified tomb of the past. Ramona pressed her palm against the door, standing rigid as she gathered the strength to find the truth of her brother’s fate. Cutler waited, pushing his anger aside to be on peak performance. His heart was starting to ache for the nineteen-year-old. He rolled his shoulders and watched as Ramona plugged her pipboy into the vault control panel.

“Stop.”

Cutler and Ramona shared a look out of the corner of their eyes before turning and aiming their weapons to the surface. The vault door screeched open behind them, but the two were too focused on the man on the dirt path in a vault suit and leather jacket.

Ramona lowered her gun just slightly. “Butch?”

The man in the leather nodded his head grimly. “No use going into the vault. Everyone in there is dead.”

Cutler took a look behind them into the vault as Ramona dropped her gun. An eerie silence, even more consuming than the metro, hung over the vault entrance. Wet blood was on the floor and the lights shone more artificially than it had in Megaton. Was that what the inside of the Institute looked like?

“What happened, Butch?” Ramona moved up toward the surface, stopping in front of the man with the jacket. 

Butch hesitated a moment before placing a hand on her shoulder. “The Overseer really cracked down after you and Doc left. Your brother was used as an example, they beat him publically and then imprisoned him. It was fucking sick. We tried to break him out, but it wasn’t any use. Eventually, Amata put out a signal for you, but we didn’t have time to wait by that point. We rioted and people either died or left with us.”

“Reu’s alive?” Ramona’s voice wavered. “Please tell me he made it out with you guys.”

“Yeah,” Butch nodded. “Planned the whole riot himself. He was real upset that it got so violent, but he killed the Overseer himself, so he can stuff it.”

Ramona threw her arms around Butch and buried her face in her shoulder. Butch’s eyes went wide as he looked at Cutler over the top of her head. Cutler retrieved Ramona’s dropped gun and gave Butch a stern look, almost daring him to do something bad to Ramona.

“We’re all camped up in Springville,” Butch told her. “You walked right past us.”

“Let’s go,” she pulled back from Butch and moved past him toward the exit back to the Wasteland. Cutler followed her obediently as they made their way down the mountain to the ruins of Springville.

Huddled in the collapsed houses were the vault dwellers, all still in their suits. Most were shaking and in tears. Their riot probably started and ended while Cutler and Ramona were a short way aways in Megaton. People gasped and flocked to Ramona, touching her and holding her as if she stopped existing when she left months ago. She whispered her reassurances and condolences, leaning into their touches as they led her further into their make-do settlement. Cutler was regarded with hesitation, but no one seemed confident enough to confront a real-life Wastelander.

A circle of leaders huddled around a preserved map, their backs turned to the rest of the vault dwellers. They had the security in each other and their surroundings to not be on guard. It was a security they would lose quickly after their first few nights in their new world. A short dark-haired woman and a tall redheaded man spoke the most, both pointing naively to places they could resettle.

“Hey guys,” Ramona spoke up. The crowd had dispersed to give Ramona space for whatever reunion this would end up being.

“Ramona!” The dark-haired woman threw herself into Ramona’s arms. The redheaded man was not far behind, he quickly pulled Ramona into a hug once the woman let go. He was clearly Reuben Sawyer. The Sawyer siblings looked similar with their red hair and freckled faces, but while Ramona’s eyes were a deep blue, Reuben’s were a light brown.

“Where’s Dad?” Reuben asked, looking over Ramona as if their father would be standing behind her.

Ramona opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to find the words. She should just tell him what happened, Cutler thought, Reuben must already know that James Sawyer didn’t come to his aid for a reason. Rebecca and Rachel didn’t need to tell Cutler about their parents, it was obvious by the empty bedside he woke up in. Cutler’s mother would’ve sat by his bed and held his hand like she did all those times he got radiation sickness from playing in the water.

The dark-haired woman narrowed her eyes at Cutler while Ramona led Reuben away to talk. “Who are you?”

“Johann Cutler,” he offered his hand. “I’m a friend of Ramona’s.”

“Amata Almodovar.” She shook his hand firmly and looked into his eyes. “Ramona trusts you?”

Cutler nodded, whether or not he trusted Ramona was another question entirely. Amata seemed satisfied with that answer. “Can we survive out here in the Wasteland?”

“Well,” Cutler paused to consider it. Stability and protection were the two most sought after commodities in the world. “You’d definitely have a better life back in your vault.”

Amata bristled at the idea. “We wanted to have an open-door policy, but after what they did to Reuben, we couldn’t stand to be around them anymore.”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Cutler asked, feeling a little too much like Arthur in his insensitivity.

“They’re still there,” Amata said softly. “Maybe we can get some Wastelanders to clear their bodies out for us.”

Cutler shook his head. “Unless you’re planning on offering living space in your vault, I wouldn’t let anyone else in.”

Amata nodded and looked over to the Sawyer siblings. Inexplicably, Reuben was the one comforting Ramona as she cried softly against his shoulder.

“James died?” Amata guessed.

“Yes.” Cutler couldn’t fill in the blanks past that point, he only knew that Ramona was close to saving him, but ultimately failed. “I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly, assuming people in the vaults knew each other well from the close confines.

Amata merely shrugged and waved him over to the map. “Where are good places to trade? I want to know where all the permanent and semi-permanent settlements are.”

Cutler regarded her carefully before pointing away from the map and instead up the hill toward Megaton. “Megaton is probably your best bet with proximity. Rivet City and other settlements are too far of a hike for your group. You might get some luck up north in Big Town or Arefu, but it’s close to Paradise Falls.”

“What’s Paradise Falls?” 

“Slavers,” Cutler said simply. Maybe if he hadn’t been so depressed in Rivet City, he and Danse could have bypassed the Brotherhood entirely and instead made a living freeing slaves. Hopefully, after the Enclave mess was settled, Lyons would send his troops to tackle the real crisis weighing on the everyday Wastelander. 

“I thought slavery was abolished in 1865,” Amata said after taking a moment to digest his words.

Cutler shrugged. Danse was more into history than he was. Cutler’s pre-war knowledge rested more in a fictional sense than in reality. “It’s back and I wouldn’t be surprised if they came down here after hearing about your escape from Vault-Tec. You’re all healthier than us Wastelanders and you’d sell for a better price.”

Amata’s jaw tensed as she stared off toward Megaton. She was mulling over some conflict, which Cutler saw no reason to interject. He stepped off to the side and over to Ramona who was sitting on some debris next to her brother.

“What’s the plan now?” Cutler asked, crouching down in front of them.

“We’re going to make the vault more habitable,” Ramona answered. “We’ll clear out the dead and move everyone back in. I’ll talk to my contacts in Megaton and Canterbury and get a trading system going.”

“What about me?” Cutler asked hesitantly. “Where do I fit into this?”

Ramona smiled at him. “Thanks for your help, Johann. I really would have lost my mind if you didn’t have my back.” She stood up and gave him a hug, one that he did not return. “Head back to the Citadel, okay? Tell Lyons and Cross and I’m busy with my own stuff, but once everything is sorted, Reu and I will head off to get the G.E.C.K.”

Cutler frowned. “You’re not coming back with me?”

Ramona shook her head. “I have to take care of my people. You understand.”

“I’m going to be in so much trouble for abandoning my squad,” Cutler said hopelessly. He didn’t want to sound like he was whining, especially around the shaken vault dwellers, but he couldn’t help it.

“Oh,” Ramona frowned as if that was the first time the possibly crossed her mind. “Shit, Johann, I wasn’t thinking. I forget that you guys have to follow all those rules.”

Cutler clenched his fists at his sides. “I’ll head back alone then.”

“If Lyons kicks you out, you can stay in the vault,” Ramona offered. “That’ll stop those bastards from finding you and bringing you in.”

Cutler opened his mouth to protest before stopping. If he and Danse were to find security in the vault, it was the safest escape from the Institute and Railroad imaginable. Especially if they were the only two outsiders granted access. “I’ll consider it.”

He turned to go before feeling a tap on his shoulder. Reuben Sawyer offered him a weak smile, most likely the best he could do after the trauma of the day. “Thank you, for taking care of my sister.”

Cutler looked down at the shorter man. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Come visit sometime, even if you are allowed to stay in your group.”

“I just might.” Cutler handed him the gun Ramona dropped earlier before turning and headed south toward the Citadel.

* * *

Cutler bypassed the Citadel in the mid-evening, deciding to check Rivet City just in case the squad had taken the entirety of their leave. It would be tactically wiser to stay in a secure location rather than make the trip back to the Citadel. He was torn whether or not he wanted to find them in the city. On one hand, it would save him from getting in trouble with the Brotherhood as a whole. Alternatively, Danse was at risk around the Railroad and Institute. 

There was a real possibility that if the group was already back at the Citadel, Lyons would ban Cutler from being around Arthur. The boy was the future of the Brotherhood and Cutler was already hanging on by the last threads of tolerability. Krieg would replace him with someone else after Danse was betrayed without explanation in Rivet City, there would be less fear of joint desertion from the two. Their team was already one knight over Krieg’s preference, Cutler would undoubtedly be replaced by some scribe they plucked from the lab. The scribe would bond with Danse over common interests and scribe inside jokes to the point it would seem like Cutler hadn’t existed in the first place.

Emerging from the Anacostia metro station, Cutler made his way up the tower and onto the bridge. He waved a quick greeting to the security guards and ducked into the marketplace. The evening rush just ended and a quiet peace settled over the area. Most of the merchants were finishing their counts and then making their way over to Gary’s for dinner. Thankfully, the squad was among the residents in the city, gathered around a table sharing several cooked boxes of Blanco. Arthur noticed him first, swinging his legs off the bench and running over to meet Cutler halfway down the staircase.

“You are in so much trouble,” the squire informed him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cutler ruffled Arthur’s hair, relieved beyond words to see everyone safe. “Remember me after Lyons exiles me.”

“I won’t let him exile you. Even if you might deserve it.” Arthur walked with him over to the table. “Where’s Sawyer?”

“She’s back at Vault 101,” Cutler took a seat at the table between Arthur and Lexi. Olwen, Jaxston, and Danse looked at him with various uncomfortable glances from across the table. “It’s a long story.”

“Long story?” Olwen leaned forward and glared at him. “What the hell is wrong with you lately? First, you blatantly side with Sawyer about ignoring the Codex, then you undermine me about squire expectations, and then you disobey orders and run off into the wild for no fucking reason.”

Cutler clenched his fists under the table. “Angelica-”

“No, you know what, you’re an asshole, Johann Cutler,” she stood from the table. “You should’ve stayed in the Wastes.”

Jaxston glanced sideways at Danse before following Olwen out of the market. Lexi punched his arm for luck before she too got up and left.

Danse stared down at his plate, his jaw tense as he poked at his dinner. Arthur sat beside Cutler in bated breath, waiting to see how this would play out.

“Arthur,” Danse said softly, the hurt in his voice clear with a single word. “Go follow the rest of the squad.”

“But I want-” Arthur looked between them before sighing. Cutler and Danse would never have a serious conversation with Arthur present. “Fine.”

Cutler fought off a yawn as Arthur went up the stairs toward the pool table. His stomach growled after a day of little nourishment, but he didn’t dare move to take leftovers from the squad’s plates while he waited for Danse to say something.

“I thought you deserted,” Danse said, keeping his eyes downcast.

“I would never,” Cutler reached across the table to grab his hand, but Danse didn’t meet him halfway.

“Liar.” Danse didn’t say the words accusingly, he just said them sadly, as though he had long thought about Cutler’s loyalty and wasn’t surprised to be left behind.

Cutler swallowed the lump in his throat. “Can we talk upstairs?”

Danse nodded and swung his legs over the bench. Cutler fell behind him as they walked up the stairs, past Arthur, on the way to the Weatherly Hotel. Whatever dread Cutler had been fighting since falsely proclaiming himself as a synth felt minuscule in the realization that Danse thought so low of him. What if Danse cut Cutler out of his life? Where would he go? What would he do?

If he were to go home and see his family, would the Railroad welcome him back? Probably not since Cutler was a confirmed deserter. He would accept being on the Railroad’s radar as long as they left him alone on the beach. If they told him to stay away from Bunker Hill, Cutler would stay back with Elijah. When the boring monotony of life swallowed him, he could make the walk over to Quincy and see if the Minutemen were still recruiting. The Commonwealth’s militia may be on the decline, but there was something majestic in imagining joining his fellow man in an epic battle against an overwhelming army of mirelurks to reclaim the Castle. Maybe if the Railroad hadn’t been the ones to rescue him, Cutler would be happily stationed in Quincy. He would have the domestic freedom in the town, but he could get his excitement from helping the people on patrols, and he could always make his way to Nordhagen to see his nephews grow up. Cutler wished he hadn’t been so caught up in adrenaline and paranoia when he and Danse left the Commonwealth. The Minutemen could have helped them fly under the radar long enough to establish themselves.

Cutler followed Danse into their hotel room and closed the door behind them. Danse sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders were tense and Cutler had never seen Danse like this before.

“Saul,” Cutler kneeled down in the space in front of him, gently taking his wrists to pull them away from his face. “I’m sorry I placed this doubt in your mind. Please, if nothing else, believe that everything I do, I do for you.”

Danse scoffed and turned his head away. His Adam's apple bobbed as a few tears escaped out of the eyes he kept tightly shut. “You keep me in the dark about everything. Everything, Johann. How can I believe you when you keep me at arm’s length?”

Cutler rubbed small circles in Danse’s palms with his thumbs. “I would tell if you could, I really would, but I can’t. Today was unexpected, but I came back. I’ll always come back.”

“You won’t,” he said the words with such conviction it made Cutler sick. “You left and I was hurt.”

“Saul, I-” Cutler stopped speaking as Danse’s words truly sunk in. He had left Danse, back in the Commonwealth. He chose his family over Danse and as a consequence, the Railroad carted him away and forcefully took every memory he had. If Blackbird hadn’t upheld his own moral code, Danse would either be dead or left abandoned in some settlement as an entirely different person. Cutler wasn’t even sure how he felt about the memory wipe. He liked M7-97 with his awkward hunched shoulders and humble attitude, but it was Saul, strong, brave, supportive, who Cutler loved. The memory wipe had given Danse an escape from the Institute far further than distance could provide, but was that the humane thing to do? It wasn’t, Danse hadn’t consented, yet it turned him into the man Cutler loved.

“I’m sorry,” Cutler eventually said, the words tumbling out through the onslaught of tears. Cutler’s tears weren’t fair to Danse either, the other man always felt like he had to be the strong one and now was his time to be upset. “I shouldn’t have left you, I wasn’t thinking clearly and I was so hyped up on adrenaline that I hadn’t stopped to consider how my actions could hurt you.”

“Being together,” Danse finally turned to look at him, “means taking me into consideration. I tried to stop you, I tried to follow you, but you ignored me. I can’t go off on a whim as you can, I need to think things over. I can’t directly disobey orders and run off after a distress call we couldn’t prove was genuine. If you had just waited, we could have taken Maxson back to the Citadel and then the entire squad could have gone with you and Knight Sawyer to solve the problem.”

Cutler nodded, wanting to explain how he didn’t dare misstep around Ramona but knowing that if he gave Danse an inch relating to synths, he’d go the full mile. Once again, Cutler should have taken time to think instead of running with his first idea. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking,” Danse agreed. “But this isn’t the first time this has happened and I get the impression that it won’t be the last.”

“What does this mean?” Cutler asked softly.

“I-” Danse faltered, probably hoping that Cutler wouldn’t ask that question. “I don’t know.”

Cutler squeezed Danse’s hands gently. “I can promise you that I will work on getting better, but there are some things that I can’t share with you. Not because I don’t want to, but because it’s not my secret to tell.”

“But Knight Sawyer can know?” Danse asked, pulling his hands away.

“She-” Cutler felt his own eyes involuntarily widen. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Danse repeated, his words shifting from hurt to anger. “Why can’t you be open with me?”

“It’s not about you!” Cutler practically shouted, despite the fact that everything always seemed to come back to Danse in the end. “It’s about me and if I could stop Ramona from knowing, I would!”

Danse’s jaw hardened. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“You can’t just say that,” Cutler softened his voice again. “I love you, Saul.”

“And I love you too,” Danse’s breath shook, “but I can’t be secure knowing that you would leave me and everything we have worked for without thought. I can’t do this anymore.” With that statement, Danse’s fists clenched and his shoulders shook with the tears he refused to let Cutler see.

“No, no, no,” Cutler whispered desperately, moving to sit next to Danse on the bed. “I’ll be better. I promise I’ll be better.”

Danse shook his head but didn’t pull away when Cutler placed a hand on his bicep.

“I-” Cutler stuttered, trying to think of scraps of truth he could tell. “I’m from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.”

“Don’t share these things because you feel like you’re being forced to. That’s different from sharing them honestly.”

“It isn’t. I am sharing with you honestly.”

Danse pulled away this time. “Would you be saying these things if we weren’t arguing?”

Cutler frowned and placed his hands in his lap. He stared forward at the wall, wishing that the ground would open, swallowing him whole.

“I feel like a villain,” Danse confessed. “I understand that this isn’t something you want to share, and I do think that you’re keeping things from me to protect me, but I need you to understand how much that hurts me. This secret consumes your life entirely and as long as you prioritize it, I will never be with you completely. When I try to help you, you push me away and I feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

“I’m sorry I left,” Cutler whispered. “I’m sorry about Ramona.”

“We have to tell Krieg and Lyons about what you did,” Danse stood from the bed. “You’ll have to face whatever punishment they see fit.”

Cutler nodded. “I will. I’ll take the punishment and I won’t go anywhere.”

Danse seemed to be sizing him up before the tension in his shoulders loosened. “Okay, we can work with this.”

“Why didn’t you guys head back to the Citadel?” Cutler asked after a beat, hating the silence they were in.

“We wanted to give you an opportunity to come back. It’ll probably lessen your punishment.”

“Thank you,” Cutler stood up. “I know I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

Danse shrugged. “We don’t leave each other out to dry in this squad.” There was another tense beat as the backhanded meaning of Danse’s words washed over both of them.

“Johann,” Danse sighed. “We obviously have some issues that need to be worked out. We need some time to reflect and regain confidence in our relationship. When the time is right, we can talk about it again.”

Those were the exact words Danse had used to break up with him back in the Commonwealth. Now that Cutler really thought about it, he and Danse never technically rekindled after that. There were a lot of things Cutler needed to apologize for, but if forgiveness was his goal, he was going down the wrong path in life. He had said he would take whatever punishment sought fit. This was just a part of it.

“Are we broken up?” Cutler asked softly.

“I think so,” Danse mumbled, looking insecure with those words. “Hopefully not forever, but right now we should take some time apart to regain perspective.”

“Right,” Cutler shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to walk around for a bit. I won’t leave the city, I just need to think.”

Danse nodded. “I’ll move my things to the other room and sleep there for the night.”

“I don’t want to kick you out of the nice bed. I’ll sleep on a cot with the squad.”

“You’re not the most popular person with them,” Danse reminded him. “We’re heading back tomorrow after breakfast.”

Cutler nodded and ducked out of the room. He walked down the hall and out onto the flight deck. He curled up in a corner and cried.

* * *

“Sit down.”

Cutler lowered himself onto one of the couches in the Solar. He always assumed that the Solar was a celebratory place where the Brotherhood’s best were congratulated personally by the elder. The couches were firm, definitely, the nicest Cutler had ever seen. Arthur often mentioned sitting with Sarah on these couches listening to Elder Lyons pass on his wisdom to his daughter and honorary son. As Cutler was learning, the Solar could also be a place of punishment. He was separated by the rest of the Citadel as Lyons and Krieg stood over him.

Krieg was stirring in fury. The paladin had refused to meet Cutler’s eyes when Danse briefed him on the trip to the city. Star Paladin Cross had escorted him to the Elder’s personal quarters and while Arthur had tried to keep up, two knights in power armor blocked his path. Olwen, Lexi, and Jaxston watched him walk off, they looked at him with sympathy, but they let him walk alone.

“You were trusted with one of the most valuable assets the Brotherhood has,” Krieg said, his voice was the drowning kind of intimidation, “and you abandoned post. Knight Cutler I do not need to tell you about the amount of trouble you’re in.”

Lyons stroked his beard, pacing the Solar as he let Cutler endure Krieg’s rant.

Cutler wanted to scream. Sawyer had pulled him away and Cutler’s only crime was protecting someone he loved. Arthur was safe with the squad, no one was going to hurt him. Except for James Hargrove, but a childish spat was healthy for a boy raised in the shadow of a legacy he hadn’t helped create.

“Knight Cutler,” Lyons stopped pacing and stopped in front of Cutler.

“I made a decision,” Cutler interrupted. “Our job in the Brotherhood is to protect the people of the Wasteland and Knight Sawyer and I saw an opportunity to save the vault dwellers. I can acknowledge that we should have taken more time to consider our options, but no one was hurt in our endeavor and Squire Maxson had a good time.”

Cutler could feel another bout of panic settle in as he said the words. Why did he have to self-sabotage everything? What would he gain from banishment from the Brotherhood? Who would make sure Danse was safe? Who would give Arthur permission to be a normal boy? How desperate was he to return home?

“While the trip to the vault was noble,” Lyons said the words sternly while Kreig’s eyes widened in disbelief at Cutler’s interruption. “The protection of Squire Maxson will always be your top priority. He is an asset to the Brotherhood as well as a member of my family.”  
Cutler kept his back straight even though he wanted nothing more than to sink into the cushions and disappear.

“However, keeping Sawyer loyal to the Brotherhood is highly beneficial and if it is true that you and she have unlocked vault resources, then you have given us an advantage over the Enclave.” Lyons seemed to mull over a decision. “I’m pulling you from rotation, Knight. Paladin Kreig has expressed concerns about your ability to work in a team and I see now more so than ever that not everyone is equipped to work along with their brothers and sisters.”

As long as Danse stayed in the Brotherhood, Cutler could go back home without as much fear. It would be a painful goodbye, but it would probably be for the best.

“You will follow Knight Sawyer on her quest related to Project Purity,” Lyons said. “An agent working with the Brotherhood’s interests but without the same expectations.”

“Thank you, Elder,” Cutler breathed, unsure how he managed to find solid middle ground. Cutler made a mental note to be kinder to Ramona since Danse had wanted him to accept his punishment as is.

Lyons nodded his head in dismissal while Kreig gave Cutler a parting look. As Cutler opened the door to leave, the Elder said one last thing.

“Do not disobey again, Knight. Squire Maxson enjoys your company, but that will only save you for so long.”

* * *

Danse and Jaxston were in the barracks when Cutler walked in. He nodded a greeting to the two of them before going to his bunk and pulling out the familiar duffle bag from under his bed.

“Did you get discharged?” Jaxston asked, quietly as though voicing the question out loud was one of the more difficult things to do.

Cutler gave a noncommittal shrug. “Not necessarily. I’ve been given mercenary status, I’m supposed to go find Ramona and help her reestablish Purity.”

“When will you be back?” Danse asked, getting up from where he was lounging to put a hand on Cutler’s shoulder.

Cutler tried to steady his shaking hands as he moved his clothes from the footlocker to the bag. “I don’t know. She wants to help the settlers before she and her brother go get the G.E.C.K.” He turned to face Danse. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Danse looked as heartbroken as Cutler felt. “You’ll come home safe. You’ll be so caught up in adventure, the time will fly.”

Cutler nodded even though he didn’t believe Danse’s words. “You stay safe too. I need you to be here when you get back.”

“I will be.” There was confidence in the words. 

Jaxston cleared his throat, pulling Danse and Cutler’s gaze away from each other. “We’ll see if we can get Kreig to welcome you back. After he cools down, obviously.”

Cutler smiled gratefully. “It’s Lyon’s who ordered it, but I appreciate it, PJ.”

“When you have to leave?” Jaxston asked.

“As soon as possible,” Cutler sighed. “I don’t know how long Ramona will be at 101 and I should really catch up with her when I can.”

“You’ll say goodbye to the rest of the squad?” Danse asked, his hand still on Cutler’s shoulder.

“I don’t think they’ll talk to me,” Cutler mumbled, thinking specifically of Olwen. He’d say goodbye to Lexi if he was confident that the two women weren’t currently together in the female barracks. It was a shame, besides Danse, Olwen was the one who Cutler got closest to.

“You should say goodbye to Maxson,” Jaxston advised. “The kid would be devastated if you left without explanation.”

Cutler looked back at Danse. “You’ll look after him when I’m gone? Please?”

Danse hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded. “I don’t know how good I’ll be, I’m not great with children.”

“You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

The three of them eased back into silence as Cutler packed up the rest of his gear. He gave Jaxston a one-armed hug and a pat on the back as he made his way to the door. Danse stood rigid and kept his eyes toward the wall. Cutler adjusted his bag over his back and quietly stepped forward and pulled Danse into a full hug. Danse hugged him back, burying his face in Cutler’s shoulder. Cutler kissed the side of Danse’s head, maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do since they had broken up the night before, but it felt wrong not to when this could be the last time he saw Danse in a while.

* * *

Arthur was asleep in their reading nook when Cutler stopped by to say goodbye. Freshly dried tear tracks were on the boy’s cheeks and his brow was creased in his sleep. It would have been easy to write Arthur a quick note and leave without causing his own tears, but that was what he did with Jacob and Daniel and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Artie,” Cutler knelt down next to him on the floor and gently shook his shoulder.

Arthur woke with a start, hitting Cutler with his forehead as he sat up quickly.

“Fuck,” Cutler rubbed his own temple as Arthur smiled at him sheepishly.

“Hi, Cutler. I’m supposed to be at lessons,” the squire informed him. “But I thought I would wait to see what punishment Elder Lyons gave you.” Blue eyes darted to Cutler’s bag and the squire’s smile dropped. “Johann?”

“I’m just doing some merc work for a while,” Cutler gently explained, trying his best not to focus on the way Arthur’s lip wobbled. “I’ll come back and it’ll be like I was never gone.”

“I’ll talk to the Elder,” Arthur vowed, blinking his eyes to dispel the tears. “I’ll make him see reason! You were just trying to help fortify allies for the Brotherhood.”

“You do that and I’ll help Ramona get the G.E.C.K. When I get back, I expect that you’ll have finished some more books so you can tell me which ones are really worth reading.”

“You’re not taking the books and comics with you?” Arthur asked, turning his eyes to the pile the two had accumulated. It was almost at Arthur’s waist when piled in one tower. Cutler was pretty proud of it.

“No,” Cutler got up off the ground. “I want to get back as soon as I can and I can’t get distracted. Besides, I know you’ll take good care of them.”

Arthur wiped his eyes and did a standard salute, his fist knocking against his small chest dangerously hard. “Ad Victoriam, Knight Cutler.”

“Ad Victoriam, Squire Maxson,” Cutler saluted in return.

* * *

The hike back to Vault 101 was a lot easier now that he knew how to use the metro. The sun was setting on the horizon as Cutler made his way into the hillside and to the imposing steel door. He raised his knuckles to the steel and knocked as hard as his knuckles would allow without serious bruising.

There was no response.

“It’s Johann Cutler.” He yelled, just in case there was someone on the other side. “From earlier? The Wastelander who traveled here yesterday with Ramona?”

The door shrieked as the heavy gear was pulled away from the entrance. Reuben Sawyer waved to him from the controls, a wrench in his hand and grease on his face. His left arm was in some sort of cast and his face had been shaved, revealing small stitches across the side of his jaw. “Hello, Wastelander!”

  
“Hello,” Cutler said cautiously as he stepped into the vault. He ducked under the imposing key as it swung forward to close the door again. “Is your sister here?”

“She’s in the clinic, I’ll take you there.”

The redheaded man waved for Cutler to follow him deeper into the vault. It was eerily similar to the Switchboard with its bright lights, cramped atmosphere, and a general disconnect from the rest of the world. Blood from the revolt was still clung to the walls, though vault dwellers still in their soiled suits were on their knees cleaning the larger messes. Reuben had his good hand on Cutler’s shoulder as if to signify to the dwellers that Cutler wasn’t a threat.

Ramona was in the clinic sorting through supplies as survivors lay on cots occupying the space outside of the office. She smiled tiredly at Cutler as he entered. “It’s good to see you, but it’s probably not a good sign that you’re here.”

Cutler rubbed the back of his neck. “It isn’t as bad as you would think. Lyons wants me to help you do whatever it is that you need to do for Project Purity.”

“About that,” Ramona stood up and took him by the elbow, leading him out of the clinic and toward the living quarters. Reuben followed behind them and closed the door behind them once they entered the Sawyer's apartment. “We can’t talk too much about outside life, Amata’s trying to establish order and my father’s disappearance set off the chain reaction that started the revolt. I’m here because Reuben’s here, and Reuben’s here because he didn’t leave when I did.”

“You’re our liaison to the outside world,” Reuben helpfully contributed. “Hence the reason you weren’t beaten with batons the second I let you in.”

“What about Purity?” Cutler asked.

“I’m not equipped to handle Purity,” Ramona said gently. “I’m no scientist and I’m sure a fortified group of Brotherhood soldiers could grab that G.E.C.K. much faster than Reuben and I could.”

“The Brotherhood isn’t prioritizing that. They’re assuming you’ve got it handled.”

“I did have it handled, but I realized that the Vault needs me more right now than the Wasteland needs me. I’m their only doctor, my father and Jonas are dead, and I wouldn’t trust a Mr. Handy anywhere near the clinic.”

Reuben had a dark look in his eyes as he nodded along with his sister’s words. “We’d lose the whole vault if we lost, ‘Mona. Another reason Amata’s letting her stay after the revolt.”

“Without Purity, the Wasteland is going to fall.”

“Haven’t you tuned into the Enclave Radio? Eden’s offering water to the people as soon as they launch the project themselves.”

“They murdered your father,” Cutler said as gently as he could. “They have their own view of purity. It doesn’t stop just with the water, it’ll end with the slaughter of those believed to be too irradiated. Think of the sentient ghouls.”

“Would it kill you?” Reuben asked, ignoring the comment about their father. “As an android?”

Cutler shifted in his boots. “No, I don’t imagine that it would, but just because I’ll be okay doesn’t mean that everyone else will.”

“They’d kill Charon,” Ramona whispered softly. “And the rest of the people in Underworld, and the people in Megaton because of exposure to the bomb. Rivet City because of the irritated water...”

Reuben shook his head. “Ramona, don’t start getting ideas. The vault needs you more than the Wasteland.”

“There’s only one of me for the vault,” Ramona looked at her brother, “but there’s only one of me for the Wasteland too. It’s such a broken world out there, and kindness is found rarely. They need me, Reu.”

“We need a doctor!” He threw his hands up as best he could with one of them in a cast. “Dad’s tried to teach me and none of it has ever stuck! Andy isn’t equipped to help us. People have died. Innocent people, for such minor things.”

“The Brotherhood could send you a medic,” Cutler said hesitantly, unsure if it was within his power to offer out Lyons’s resources. “Or at least someone who could educate one of you to be a doctor.”

Ramona nodded. “I’ll go to the Citadel and talk to Lyons. Johann, you know the medical basics?”

“Yes.” All Wastelanders knew the basics of care, otherwise, they’d never live into adulthood.

“You stay here and watch after my people. It’ll really help them trust you. Once I’m back from the Citadel, the three of us can go find the G.E.C.K.”

* * *

Never in his entire life had Cutler taken a hot shower. The one in Rivet City has been ‘not freezing’ by Danse’s optimistic opinion, but it still left teeth chattering. Yet, in the vault, Cutler had been encouraged to shower for as long as he wanted and to use water that was so hot it turned his skin red. He left the communal bathroom with a towel around his waist and his body as cleaner than it had ever been before. A weight was lifted off his shoulders as his muscles relaxed in a newfound way. It might have been insensitive, but as Cutler made his way back to the Sawyer’s living quarters, he couldn’t help but think that if the Institute also had warm water, the synths would be fools to run.

Reuben Sawyer was awake and lounging on the couch. A pip boy was on the coffee table, disassembled with a scattering of small intricate tools surrounding it. Cutler felt his heart constrict as he thought of Danse and how Cutler may not be lucky enough to see Danse relaxed and working on modifications ever again.

“I made Dad’s old bed for you,” Reuben said easily, tossing a small ball up into the air and catching it easily as it came back down. His arm was out of the cast, but it was still sore. Stimpacks had done wonders for the sprain. “There are loads of empty apartments, but I thought it would be in bad taste to give it to a Wastelander when those people died trying to keep people like you away.”

“Thank you,” Cutler said simply.

“Washed your clothes too. They were disgusting.”

Cutler pondered that for a moment. Clothes never really got washed in the Wasteland, they were merely traded out when they became too tattered or torn. Sometimes they’d be soaked in water, but it was never enough to truly clean them. Yet, the civilian clothes and Cutler’s Brotherhood uniform were cleaner than Cutler could have ever imagined and folded neatly on the chair next to the couch.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Cutler said softly, hating the fact that he now owed deep favors to both of the Sawyer siblings.

Reuben merely shrugged. “It wasn’t that big of a deal, I just washed them with the rest of the laundry.”

Cutler nodded and went off into James’s old room to change into the spare vault suit he was supposed to wear while living underground. When he came back into the living room, Reuben had gotten back to work on the pip-boy.

“Are you coming with us into the Wasteland?” Cutler asked.

“Yeah. My priority is to stay with my sister, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m glad to leave. The vault is our home and I feel loyalty to these people, but...” He trailed off, setting down his tools as his hands started to shake. “They beat the shit out of me, they imprisoned me. I know that the people responsible are dead, but it’s hard to feel relaxed here.”

Cutler hesitantly sat next to him on the couch. “The Wasteland isn’t a place to feel relaxed. People will try to kill you or manipulate you at every turn. Peace is a commodity few and far between.”

“People acknowledge it though,” Reuben said. “We’ve been lied to for so long in this vault and I don’t think I can go back to ignorance.”

* * *

A few days later, Cutler fell behind the Sawyer siblings as they traveled west toward Vault 87. Ramona had her pip-boy playing _Civilization_ by the Andrew Sisters & Danny Kaye while Reuben had his set to the gentle violins playing on the Enclave station. The elder of the two siblings carried the 44 magnum that Cutler had carried when they had left Rivet City. Cutler’s Brotherhood rifle was buzzing in his hands as he watched their backs, making sure to overcompensate Reuben’s side as Ramona had long since proven that she could take care of herself.

When she went to the Citadel, Star Paladin Cross had offered to travel along with the group, but Ramona had dismissed her in favor of a more freelance approach. The knight she had brought to be the medic in the fault was a fifteen-year-old boy that Lyons felt had talent and could thrive in a new environment and was gentle enough to earn the trust of skittish vault dwellers. His name was Cade, one of the knights who served under Paladin Brandis. Their paths never crossed much at the Citadel, but Cutler had still given the boy a good salute before heading out into the Wastes.

“What is an android exactly?” Reuben asked a few miles out of the vault. The man flinched at every sound and stuck close to his sister’s side. He wasn’t adjusted and was trying to distract himself.

“Where I’m from, we call them synths.” Cutler rolled his shoulders as he tried to think of how to best elaborate. It didn’t take a genius to see that Ramona Sawyer would have influence over the Wasteland, and it was possibly his most important mission as a synth sympathizer to recruit her to the cause. Reuben was along for the ride. “There’s the place called the Institute up in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, they’re poisoning the land and its inhabitants in a quest to make a pure, easily controllable world. Rumor says that they’re mass-producing super mutants and releasing them and they sabotage any settlement that gains a foothold in the Commonwealth. Synths are beings created bone by bone, muscle by muscle as a tool to infiltrate and control the population. The problem for the Institute is that to properly create a tool to mimic human life, they have to give it free will. Once free will is established the synth becomes a person and generally, the synth doesn’t want to carry out orders, so they’re imprisoned in the Institute to carry out the chores until they either die or escape.”

“Johann escaped,” Ramona further elaborated, turning down the sound of her pip-boy as Three Dog came back on the air. “There’s a counter organization called the Railroad which focuses on the rescue and rehabilitation of the androids. They got Johann a new face, a new voice, and reestablished him in Rivet City.”

Reuben clapped him on the back. “Went from one hell straight to another, Hans.”

Cutler forced a smile. “At least in this hell I get to make my own choices.”

“Own choices,” Reuben mulled over the words. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s the vault,” Ramona agreed, “or it’s a Wasteland of civilians. There’s always a duty and there is always a need.”

“And a little sister who needs to be reeled in.”

“If that’s what you’re looking for, Reu, you’re never going to be satisfied.” 

* * *

“Your President, John Henry Eden.”

Ramona stifled a laugh and punched her brother’s shoulder as they approached the entrance to Little Lamplight.

Reuben smirked and kept his impression going, obviously inspired by hearing Eden’s voice on his own pip-boy and hearing Three Dog’s impression of Eden on Ramona’s pip-boy. “My dear Americans...”

“Keep focused,” Cutler advised as they approached the cave. He tried not to be annoyed by how Ramona encouraged Reuben goofing off, knowing that he and Deacon had done the exact same thing back in the Commonwealth. Now that Cutler thought about it, he was roughly Reuben’s age when he joined the Railroad.

“Do you think the people in 87 will welcome us with welcome arms?” Ramona asked. “Since we’re kind of like cousins?”

“Didn’t you find a vault where they played white noise to make the people go insane?” Reuben asked.

“Here’s what I know about vaults,” Ramona laid out as they started down the tunnel in the hillside on their way to Little Lamplight. “There’s 101, which I won’t get into. There was the one Dad visited to find Bruan. They had these loungers that projected the people into a fictionally constructed reality.”

Cutler’s eyebrows knitted together. “A fictionally constructed reality?”

Ramona waved that off. “One vault had these experiments where they played this white music to make the people go crazy. That’s where I found a violin for Agatha. Then there was a vault that had this gas in the air that made me have these hallucinations. Lastly, there was a cloning vault, but there was only one type of clone and I’m assuming their names were Gary.”

“What the fuck,” Rueben mumbled. “Why the hell would you think 87 would greet us with welcome arms after all of that?”

“The universe owes me one after all these shitty vault experiences?” Ramona offered.

Cutler laughed. “The universe is in debt to all of us.”

The three of them emerged in the opening of the cave. A constructed gate stood between them and the caverns, and from a guard post next to an entrance, a high pitched voice addressed them.

“Hold it right there, Misters!”

Reuben, Ramona, and Cutler stopped and looked at the child curiously. His face was barely visible under the helmet he was wearing.

“Don’t take another step or we’ll blow your fucking heads off!”

“Woah, hold on there. We’re friends!” Reuben found his words first, electing himself as their spokesperson.

“You’re big, and I don’t have any big friends. You better just go out the way you came in.”

“Who are you?” Ramona asked before being elbowed by her brother.

“I’m MacCready. I run Little Lamplight because they made me the mayor. And I don’t like strangers. Or mungos.”

“Mungo?” Cutler mumbled under his breath.

“We really need to get to Vault 87, do you know the way?” Reuben asked.

“You don’t want to go there, that’s where the monsters are. We got pretty good at keeping them out. Probably better than you could do.” MacCready responded.

“Monsters?” Reuben asked before Ramona interrupted with her own question. “What kind of monsters?”  
“The big ones. You know, the ones that sort of look like people expect they’re all wrong.”

Ramona and Cutler shared a look while Reuben scowled in confusion. Super mutants.

“So you know the way there?” Reuben prodded.

  
“Yeah, I do,” MacCready said condescendingly. “But it’s through Little Lamplight, and you’re not getting into Little Lamplight. Guess you better find some other way, mungos.”

“Can we come in?” Reuben asked as if there was a possibility MacCready would be so astounded by the audacity that he would open the gate.

“Hell no! No mungos allowed!”

“How can we get you to trust us?” Ramona shoved Reuben out of the way.

MacCready scoffed. “Why should I trust you? I got no reason to. You mungos are nothing but trouble. I ain’t gonna let what happened to Sammy and Squirrel happen to anyone else.”

“Why?” Ramona was gentler with her prodding. “What happened to Sammy and Squirrel?”

“Them and Penny got themselves caught,” MacCready explained. “By mungos, just like you. Slavers from Paradise Falls. I told them to watch out, but the stupid kids didn’t listen.”

“What if we go and help Sammy and the others? Then will you trust us?” Cutler asked, bringing himself into the conversation. If it became an interest to the Brotherhood to take down Paradise Falls, Cutler was going to take that opportunity. 

MacCready seemed to weigh Cutler’s words before nodding.“You’d do that? Maybe... If you bring them back, I might let you in.”

“It’s a bargain,” Ramona interjected. “You let us through Little Lamplight under an armed guard and once we get through the vault and grab what we need, we’ll go free your friends.”

“Why would I fucking do that?” MacCready glared.

“Because it’s the only way you’ll get those monsters eradicated and the only way you’ll get your friends back.”

“Just keep your fucking hands where I can see them!”

The gate opened and the three walked into Little Lamplight with their hands raised up in the air. MacCready held a rifle up to Reuben’s chest and nodded for them to follow him. Two children, assumingly twins by their similar appearance, also pulled out guns and kept them aimed at Ramona and Cutler’s backs.

Cutler thought that kids in Little Lamplight were great. They knew how to take care of themselves, but, as Cutler realized when two kids almost knocked down Ramona in a game of tag, they still knew how to be children. He laughed under his breath as he thought about Arthur’s obedient and organized nature butting heads with MacCready’s controlled, ‘fuck you’ attitude. The two boys were natural leaders either way and Cutler wondered if this is what Arthur would have been like if he hadn’t been raised to be the next Roger Maxson.

* * *

The Little Lamplighters sent them on their way into Murder Pass and up toward their destination. Cutler took place at the front of the group this time, well prepared to handle the super mutants and centaurs loitering around the entrance of the vault. After realizing that he was horribly inaccurate with the gun, Reuben took a tire iron off one of the mutants and brandished it dangerously, successfully taking down a centaur even though he screamed in terror the whole time.

Cutler spent his fusions cells weakening the mutants, allowing Ramona to take the final shots with her 10mm. Inside the vault, the three quickly made their way through waves of mutants. Reuben took tools and supplies Vault 101 and the Brotherhood could use while Cutler and Ramona guarded his back. In about half an hour's time, the three found themselves at the heart of the vault’s experiment. 

The corridor smelled like rotting flesh and the rooms they passed made the Geiger counters on the Sawyers’ wrists crackle dangerously.

“These were... people,” Ramona whispered, her eyes widening in horror at the swollen, disfigured, and dismembered bodies left behind by Vault-Tec. Limbs grew from the corpses in tangles and puss leaked from their decomposing forms.

“They’re recent.” Cutler kept his eyes forward, refusing to look at the remains. If any vault resembled the Institute, it had to be this one. Dark, claustrophobic, and polluted by the evil deeds it had seen. Culter wanted to throw up as he imagined Danse ushering two terrified synths out of a similar hell, hoping that there would be an escape from the torture and experiments.

“The mutants kidnap people, sometimes,” Ramona was putting the puzzle pieces together. “They’re bringing them here and injecting them with F.E.V.”

“We need to get out of here,” Reuben hissed, keeping his voice low as to not attract the next wave of hostiles.

“We need to stop this.” Ramona’s voice was firm as she looked over her two companions. “It is our duty to the Wasteland and the world. If we don’t shut this down right now, there will only be more mutants and kidnappings.”

Reuben looked sick. He didn’t seem to process Ramona’s words.

She turned to Cutler. “You said that your home, the Commonwealth, was overrun by mutants. That the Institute was releasing them onto the land along with the evil synths to kill the remains of humanity. I can’t say whether or not we can save your land, but we can save this one. It’s the same thing. You’ve escaped from this once and I believe that you can help me free the Wasteland from a similar threat.”

Cutler hadn’t thought about running away after they’d come this far, although running did seem to be his most cultivated and practiced course of action. Either way, Ramona’s words inspired him and he could feel another bout of energy course through his veins. It was like Switchboard’s positive warmth, the one that glowed like a pre-war Christmas.

“You got me, Lone Wanderer. You lead, I’ll follow.”

She nodded. “Perk up, Reu. You’re outvoted.”

Reuben set his jaw and followed them as they snuck further into the laboratory. Down the hall, they could hear the pained moans of a centaur and the restless stomping of super mutants. Cutler wondered briefly what determined the kind of mutation between centaur and mutant. If it were up to him, he’d be a mutant. He shook his head, dismissing the Deacon-esque pondering. The pondering didn’t purge the smell from his nose or the horrors from his eyes.

“You three, over there!”

The three of them simultaneously jumped, not expecting to hear the voice of a mutant without the stomps and roars of its approach. Ramona raised her gun and Reuben tightened his grip on his tire iron. Cutler frowned. What mutant could correctly identify the number of hostiles? He held his rifle over Reuben’s shoulder while Ramona faced the other way.

“Please come speak to me. I’m in the room to your left. Use the intercom next to the window.”

Standing in the window of one of the experiment rooms was a mutant in a stretched lab suit. It looked at them with recognition as though it viewed them as equals. Like it was human-like they were. Ramona stepped forward and pressed the intercom button. Cutler and Reuben guarded her back. Before she could speak, the mutant spoke again.

“It can’t be! Either you’re quite real or I am going quite mad. Could you three actually be pure humans?”

“A friendly super mutant,” Ramona said under her breath, her finger still on the intercom button. “Well, now I’ve seen everything.”

The mutant groaned. It wasn’t the nonsensical moan of its kind, but more so an annoyed groan. “Must you use that vulgar term?”

Ramona’s face went red as she removed her finger from the button. Cutler couldn’t blame her, he still wasn’t sure if this was real or not.

“Yes,” the mutant explained, “I was born in the F.E.V. Chambers but a Super Mutant I clearly am not. I prefer the term Meta-Human. Suits me better, don’t you think?”

“Android versus synth,” Reuben whispered to Cutler sagely. “Or do you also prefer the term Meta-Human too?”

“Shut up,” Cutler hissed at him, aghast by his audacity. It was like Reuben had no understanding of the world and decided being witty was the way to go. Which, in terms of Reuben finally being out of the vault prison cell and the vault itself, it wasn’t too far off to assume that the initial assessment was right. Either way, there was a time and a place for insensitive comments and now wasn’t it.

“Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself,” the mutant continued, unable to hear their conversation without Ramona activating the intercom. “The name’s Fawkes.”

Ramona sobered herself up, feeling ashamed that she had assumed the mutant had no intelligence. “How ironic that the others consider you a mutant of their kind.”

“Yes,” Fawkes drawled, “indeed it is ironic. Forgive my astonishment, but I hadn’t expected to meet someone with such a learned outlook of these things. It is a pleasant change. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, it was only a matter of time before someone like you showed up for the G.E.C.K.”

Ramona gasped. “What do you know about the G.E.C.K.?”

“I know what it is, I know where it is, and best of all, I know how you can get your hands on it.”

“Like cousins,” Ramona threw over her shoulder to the two of them before continuing her conversation with Fawkes. “Tell us everything about it then.”

“Not so fast!” Fawkes interrupted. “Quid pro quo, my friends. If I’m to do this service for you, I expect to get something in return.”

The three of them shared uneasy glances and Ramona once again removed her finger from the intercom button. “What do we do?” Reuben asked.

Ramona bit her lip and glanced at Cutler before sighing. “We need to stop being so damn insensitive and dense. The ghouls in Underworld are my friends and this is the same situation. Is it not?”

Reuben hesitated before shrugging. “You’re the boss.”

“What do you need, Fawkes?” She asked.

“Release me from this makeshift prison and I will personally take you to the G.E.C.K. and retrieve it for you.”

“Why would we have difficulty getting the G.E.C.K.?” Cutler asked. Ramona relayed the question to Fawkes.

“The chamber in which the G.E.C.K. resides is absolutely flooded with radiation. It is unlikely you’ll survive very long. Myself, on the other hand, have surprisingly inherited a useful trait from my fellow Meta Humans. I am highly resistant to radiation. Let me out of here, and I will place the G.E.C.K. safely in your hands.” 

“Androids are resistant too,” Ramona mused, once again cutting the connection to Fawkes. “If he ends up betraying us, Johann, you can still go retrieve the G.E.C.K.”

Cutler swallowed the lump in his throat, he knew lying to Ramona about the identity of the synth could come and bite him in the ass, but he didn’t imagine that this would be how. “You’re the one who said we need to overcome prejudice. I vote to give the mutant a chance.”

“I didn’t say that we wouldn’t let him out,” she rolls her eyes. “I just meant that we don’t have anything to lose if this is a trap.”

“Do I get a vote?” Reuben asked.

“No.” Ramona turned the intercom back on. “How do we get you out?”

“At the end of the hallway on your right is a maintenance room. Inside, you’ll find the fire control console for the medical area. Trip the alarm on it, and I’ll be able to get out. A word of warning though. Tripping the console activates a failsafe and will open all of the recovery rooms in the medical area. So what do you think? Can you do it?”

“Okay, Fawkes. You’ve got a deal.”

“Glad to see you are sensitive people. Now get me out of this place. I can’t stand it anymore!”

Clearing the hallway and maintenance room took little time as they had established a groove working through the rest of the vault. Electricity crackled near them, making their hair stand up. Cutler curiously moved his hand over his head, watching with interest as his short hair followed after it. Something like this only happened in horrifying rad storms.

The Sawyer siblings paid no mind to the static, having long since grown accustomed to high voltage areas of vaults. Reuben fiddled with the control console. “I bet you that I can get this to just open Fawke’s door.”

“Don’t be cocky,” Ramona chastised, taking a moment to drink some of her water.

“Don’t be cocky,” Reuben mocked under his breath as he pulled the small intricate pip-boy tools out of a pouch on his belt. 

“It’s hard to believe that we’re so close to the G.E.C.K.,” Ramona said to Cutler, handing him the water bottle. “My father dedicated his life to this and now we’re so close to achieving his dream.”

“He’d be proud of you,” Cutler said although he’d never met James Sawyer. It just seemed to be the right thing to say.

“He said that to me. Not about this, but about the bomb in Megaton and the woman I’ve become.” She smiled to herself. “It was nice to hear.”

“Got it!” Reuben stuck his tools back into his pouch. “Let’s go get the thing.”

* * *

The trip through the rest of the vault was smoother. Fawkes, enjoying his newfound freedom, paved the way for the three of them, taking out mutants and centaurs before it became an issue. Ramona clutched Cutler and Reuben’s hands as Fawkes headed into the G.E.C.K. chamber, the thick green fog of radiation swallowing Fawkes up a few feet away from the door.

“It’ll be such a better world,” Ramona whispered as the seconds ticked by without Fawkes reemerging. “So much worry would be lifted and people would become so much healthier.”

Cutler imagined for a moment a world where his mother stood on the shoreline and watched him splash around in the water. She wouldn’t worry about him getting sick, she’d simply smile and call him back home for dinner.

True to his word, Fawkes emerged with the G.E.C.K. in his hands. He passed it carefully to Ramona and spoke his thanks once again to his new friends. They said their goodbyes and headed back the way they came, making plans to sleep near the vault entrance before heading back to the Citadel. They’d return the G.E.C.K to the scribes and then take as many troops as Lyons would grant them to Paradise Falls to fulfill their promise to Mayor MacCready. Cutler grinned along with Sawyer siblings, feeling their hope resonate deep within him. If the Capital Wasteland could be saved, maybe one day they could save the Commonwealth too.

As they passed through a section of the vault, a small device fell from the ceiling. Before Cutler or Ramona had time to raise their weapons, electricity shot through their veins as though the power of a bomb exploded on each of their nerves. Cutler fell onto his knees and then onto the ground fully, feeling his senses leave him quickly. It took all of his power to keep his eyes open, but soon it became too much. The last thing he saw was the boots of an Enclave soldier.


End file.
